Words in Song and Rhyme
by SheherazadeSohma
Summary: Words are the voice of the heart.-Confucius. Six: "By Fives" IchigoxRukia oneshots
1. Morning Lullabies

**Morning Lullabies**

Of course, everything had started with his father. Otherwise, there was no way they would ever have gotten into this ridiculous position on their own.

"I'm going to rearrange my bedroom, son, so I need to shove some things into your closet temporarily," Isshin mentioned one afternoon.

"Sure, whatever—huh, what?" Ichigo stared. "Why_ my_ closet? Karin and Yuzu have one, use theirs." _And if you use mine, Rukia's out of a place to sleep._

"A_ mouse_ couldn't live comfortably in their closet!" Isshin said breezily. "Besides, I'm helping_ them_ rearrange their room as well! So they'll have to cram some stuff in there too!"

"J-Just leave everything in the hallway!"

"And risk my precious children's _lives_ by having things littered _willy-nilly_ in the hall for them to_ trip_ on and snap their tender _necks?_ For_ shame_, Ichigo! _Unless_—" Isshin's eyes flashed slyly—"there's a reason you don't want us looking inside your closet, _hmmm?_ Is my son feeling manly urges and hiding naughty magaz—"

"Shut up, ya senile old lecher!" Ichigo shoved Isshin out of his way and stalked off. "There's nothing to hide! Just make sure everything's in the closet, I don't wanna kill myself falling over random crap."

Thank God his mother wasn't around to hear how her husband was talking to her only son. Her presence must have really tamed Isshin's asinine antics; otherwise, it was impossible to think Masaki Kurosaki could have had a such misguided taste in men.

_One of these days, I'm gonna demand a paternity test…_

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"What?!"

Rukia jacked up off Ichigo's bed, her manga flopping forgotten to the floor.

"I tried to say no at first, but then he started asking why I'd mind. I didn't use that closet for much of anything besides storing spare futons before you arrived; it would look pretty suspicious if I kept protesting."

"Well…how much stuff are we talking about? If it's only a bit, I wouldn't mind taking it out at night and putting it back in the morning."

"If it was only a few things, my closet wouldn't be needed. Besides, we're talking about dad _and_ the girls' rooms."

"But Ichigo, where will I hide? Where will I _sleep_?"

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"Ichigo, I don't think I need to stress this…but if you decide that _now_ is the time to at like a horny teenager, I _will_ kick—"

"Don't flatter yourself—_yeow!_"

"Serves you right."

"You brought it up."

This was surefire proof that there was indeed a higher power in the universe. Only a divinity with a twisted, sadistic sense of humor could have shoved them into this predicament.

"Tell me again why Urahara can't take you in."

Rukia sighed, fluffing a pillow before tossing it on Ichigo's bed. "I told you—tons of merchandise he hadn't ordered were delivered to him at the same time he's been cleaning out the shoten. The place is a mess right now, and it's already cramped with the four of them. "

"…Bull."

"It's true!"

"It's too frickin' convenient, Rukia: Dad's messing with his room, Karin and Yuzu fiddling with their room, Urahara cleaning out the shoten…" Ichigo grabbed the edge of his bedspread and yanked it back.

"Convenient for who? This wasn't in my plans, just so you know."

"Convenient for Dad. He's always harpin' on me to get a girlfriend and practice giving him grandbabies."

"I guess it's plausible…if he knew I existed."

"True…" Ichigo paused. "You sure you couldn't stay with Orihime?"

The fluffed pillow slammed into his back. "Stop trying to kick me out, dammit! What do you want me to say to her? _'Oh, Inoue-san, could I sleep over at your apartment a couple days? Kurosaki-sensei is cleaning his house and I'd just be in the way—oh, you mean you didn't realize I lived with Kurosaki-kun? It's a funny story, actually!' _"

"…Tatsuki?"

"NO! _It's the same situation, numbskull!_" Rukia tackled him onto the bed and proceeded to pummel him with a second pillow. "I'm staying right here! Listen—"

"Get the hell off, pipsqueak—"

"No, listen, listen!" His attacker straightened, straddling his chest while she pointed a commanding finger at him. "There's no need for this to be awkward! Know why? I'll tell you why!"

Rukia bent again, angling her face toward his. "Do you feel sexual tension between us?"

"HUH? Hell no!"

"Do you have erotic daydreams about me?"

"_Dammit, dwarf, no!"_

"When you go to sleep, do you dream about—"

"_You?_ _Once I imagined tossing you off the roof, does that count?!"_

"Excellent."

Ichigo's hands, two inches from grabbing her shoulders and shoving her off him, stopped. He looked at her quizzically.

"And you interrogated me, why?"

"Connect the dots, Strawberry. If you don't feel anything for me, you won't want to do anything with me, so why would you be nervous about sharing your bed?"

Ichigo processed this…and smirked. "And those questions...the same goes for you?"

"Yup. Zero attraction, zip imaginings, zilch dreams."

"Well, that's pretty strange, or do you always straddle the stomachs of guys you're not attracted to?"

Rukia took in her position (bottom resting on his abdomen, thighs wrapping the barrel of his chest) and Ichigo's face (that damned grin and those laughing eyes) and the low rumble she felt vibrating around his rib cage and the shaking of his taut stomach as a chuckle swelled in him. She promptly whopped him in the face once more with the pillow before he could see her flush a thousand shades of red.

"Stupid carrot-top," she snapped, hopping off the now uncontrollably laughing boy.

Ichigo shoved the pillow off his face, now red with mirth. "Shoulda seen your face, Rukia! God, you looked like I'd walloped you!"

"Stupid strawberries shouldn't talk! Now come on, I wanna take a shower. Stand guard so your family doesn't walk in."

"Getting ready for bed, huh? Can't wait to hop in with me, I guess?"

"CLAM IT!"

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Ichigo slept lightly, unused to having to share his one-man bed, unused to having a warm little body curled next to him, her breath lightly fanning the back of his neck.

He'd normally relish sleeping in on Sunday mornings, but now, now he wanted day to break and give him an excuse to leave the bed. If sunrise pierced his window, it would be understandable if he woke up and couldn't reclaim slumber. It would be understandable if he went downstairs, puttered around, and made himself an early breakfast, doing anything but staying in that warm little room with that warm, peaceful, soft little body. Hell, cleaning the entire clinic would be a great way to keep occupied…

But somehow, while plotting his escape, he dozed off. When his eyes next slid open…he found that he'd moved.

He was no longer facing the wall beside his window, but had flipped over to his left side in the night. His mouth was nuzzling a soft mop of tousled dark hair; his arms curled around the petite frame he'd loathed in the wee hours of the morning.

A small part of his mind whipped into full-blown panic—_What the hell are you doing, Ichigo? What the hell are you _**doing**_? Your arms, her hair, and your legs, good God, your right leg and hers are tangled_**together**—but the rest of his body didn't respond in kind.

Actually, this was the most peaceful he had felt in ages.

Her neck was on his left arm—_when did that slip under there?—_and the hair he hadn't pressed his face against was spread haphazardly over the smooth white pillow.

A song floated unbidden through his thoughts, a smooth string of notes Rukia fell in love with just a few days before…

_Yesterday….I woke up…with your head on my arm…My hand was numb…circulation gone…_

Ichigo drew back a little, not enough to disturb her, but just enough so he could fully see her sweet face, free from the worries and determination it showed through the day.

_But I dared not move the pretty sleeping one…_

As if it were someone else's, Ichigo saw his right hand lift and trace the dappled spots of early sunlight and shadows across her cheek.

_The sun had painted…patterns on your face…as you breathed Sunday air…_

Rukia shifted. Had the feathery touch woken her? No, no, she rolled a couple inches across the mattress, her head shifting further up his arm, her chest—_her chest_—pressing against his own, her breath tickling his collarbone. His hand moved on its own again, fingers ruffling through her dark mane—_good God, this could become a compulsion_—

_You rolled onto…my open arm…I became your pillow…you let me smooth your hair…_

He hadn't lied last night. He certainly hadn't! He'd never dreamed of her, never fantasized anything between them.

Damn, he sucked at lying even to himself.

But now….now…everything he felt for her (the protectiveness, the frustration, the gratitude, the feeling that she was one of the few people in either world that truly understood him) seemed to combine and hint that these feelings were indicators of something else all along. Something he'd laughed off time and time again.

No, it couldn't be that…

But…

_I will sing you morning lullabies…You are beautiful and peaceful this way…I know you have to close your eyes on everyone…Let me help you, I'll sing you to sleep…with morning lullabies…_

Rukia started unconsciously pressing her head back against his teasing hand, her neck curving to give him a wonderful glimpse of it.

"_Ichi…"_

Wait.

"…_go…"_

Her back arched, her chest pressed more firmly into his.

_Let me lie in the curve…of your body tonight…And I will hear you tumble into sleep…I will watch you here, I'll watch you here with me…_

Had she said what he thought she had? His heart threatened to slam through his ribs. A mirror wasn't needed to know his face was stained scarlet.

"_Nnn….Ichi…go…" _The corners of parted mouth curved in dreamy smile.

Ichigo slowly lowered his face…pressed his forehead against Rukia's…and sighed. What should he do?

A knock and Isshin's voice boomed through the room.

"Ichigo, get dressed!! We have a lot of stuff to get out of there and back into our rooms!!"

Rukia jerked awake against him, her dazed mind slamming into the twin realizations of just where Kurosaki Senior's voice was blasting and just where Kurosaki Junior's arms were.

"Best to get an early start, m'boy, people die in bed!! Do I have to get in there and test your self-defense skills?!"

Blue eyes stared into brown in confusion, then horror.

The door clicked and started swinging open.

Ichigo tightened his arms around Rukia and flipped. She wound up half under him, tangled and hidden in the sheets, pressed against the wall out of sight of the doorway, with only Ichigo's back visible.

"Aww, Daddy, he's still sleeping. Can't you wait 'til later? He's been studying so hard lately, he deserves it."

"Well, if you insist, Yuzu my child, I can indulge you this once."

"Thank you, Daddy. I'll give you extra pancakes."

"Goody! If I knew being lax with Ichigo would get me such rewards, I'd have done it more often…"

_Not really,_ Isshin thought. _My boy can't afford not to have his fights with me each morning, keeps him sharp!_

_But I think Ichigo will be active enough now that my "Grand Master Plan to Get My Son and His House Guest Together!" has gone so well…_

And they were gone.

And Ichigo and his stowaway were left tangled in each other as intimately as they could be still clothed, staring at each other, breathing heavily from their frightful close-call.

Rukia gulped and said on a gasp, "You can get off me now."

Ichigo shifted—but not off of her. Instead he propped himself up so his weight wouldn't crush her, but his frame loomed over her smaller one, caging her.

Her eyes narrowed warily. "Remember what I said about kicking you, Kurosaki?"

"You weren't acting like you wanted to kick me before Dad came in. You were snuggling."

Rukia flushed spectacularly. "Y-You liar!"

"Tell that to the pins and needles in my arm, you were using it as your pillow. No—" He cut off her sputterings. "Listen, listen. You wanna have a hypothetical conversation?"

"No—"

"Great. Hypothetically…if I told you I liked sharing a bed with you…would you feel likewise?"

Those piercing blue eyes measured him. "Hypothetically…yes."

"Hypothetically, if I told you I like feeling your body wrapped in mine…"

"Hypothetically, I just might like it too."

Ichigo started leaning in, his voice growing softer with each word. "Hypothetically, if I told you this…new experience…showed me I can't keep telling myself I don't feel…something more than…friendship…for you…more than… 'like'…for you…"

Rukia lifted her head and whispered as well. "Hypothetically…I might say what the hell took you so long…"

And somehow his mouth was on hers and her mouth was on his, and they had to let their minds take a second to stop reeling and figure out that _yes_, this _was_ happening, or how else could they suddenly break apart and stare in wonder at each other, lungs desperate for air.

It wasn't long before Ichigo broke into a slow grin.

"So…you really don't dream about me?"

"Huh?"

"For someone who never dreams of me…" Ichigo slowly smiled. "…you sure do say my name a lot in your sleep."

"I…I what…?"

Rukia's breath caught as Ichigo once more wove his fingers into her midnight hair. Her dazed eyes widened—_So it _was_ him making that wonderful move_—then turned bright and welcoming.

"C'mere, Carrot-Top…"

And their mouths melded.

_I will sing you morning lullabies…You are beautiful and peaceful this way…I know you have to close your eyes on everyone…Let me help, I'll sing you to sleep with morning lulla-bye, bye, baby, close your eyes and I will sing you…morning lullabies…_

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**Sheherazade's Blah Blah Blah**

Hello! This is SheherazadeSohma. This is my first Bleach one-shot. Please be gentle with me. (bow) The song used in this piece was 'Morning Lullabies' by Ingrid Michaelson. I cut out a few words in the last stanza of the song, otherwise it's all intact. I also put the lyrics in a different format from the usual paragraphs since I thought it would more interesting, and perhaps flow a bit easier.

Also, I plan on putting a few more drabbles together with this story—one song story, two not based on songs. And probably any more I think up, we'll see how it goes.

If anyone is reading this who is a follower of my other story The Juunishi Host Club, no, I'm not abandoning that one. I just need to figure out how to construct the next chapter. But I'll work on it!

**Thank you for taking the time to read this story! Please review with praise and/or constructive criticism!**


	2. The Lighthouse's Tale

**Disclaimer:** Forgot this with the first one so…I don't own Bleach or anything pertaining to it, just this humble work of writing.

**The Lighthouse's Tale**

_I am a lighthouse, worn by the weather and the waves…I keep my lamp lit to warn the sailors on their way…_

_I'll tell a story, paint you a picture from my past…_

_I was so happy, but joy in this life seldom lasts…_

It was just one of those nights. The sky cried against her window, not with lightning and thunderous roars, but quietly. Desolately.

Her apartment was cold. The thermostat was but a few feet away, but forced heat would have felt false somehow. The lights were off, the only illumination a haunting glow coming from the streetlamps below outside.

She lay on her futon in the middle of the room, staring at the ceiling. Her hand reached out to the side to once more pluck up the picture frame she couldn't stop staring at again and again. She summoned a smile—it was a sunset snapshot, taken at the river that was the source of so many childhood adventures.

Ichigo looked out to the left of the frame, staring at the dying sun that lurked out of the shot, the light sending his golden hair into a blaze. Rukia stood next to him, a smaller figure but no less imposing. It wasn't an awfully close shot, but the striking blue of her eyes was still caught as she gazed into the distance with Ichigo.

His left hand was lightly combing through her hair.

And Uryuu…dear Uryuu had been the only one aware that a click-happy camera-bandit had snuck up on them and was about to capture the moment. He had been admiring the sunset as well, but had turned and looked straight at her.

Even in a moment of idleness, once he realized she was present, he could never seem to hide the stark longing in his eyes.

But she was oblivious to it at the time. After all, where Uryuu was the moon, Ichigo was the sun, and everyone knows that the sun shines so much brighter…

"_Oh, Ichigo…"_ breathed Orihime.

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_I had a keeper, he helped me warn the ships at sea…We had grown closer, 'til his joy meant everything to me…_

Without Ichigo Kurosaki, Orihime's powers wouldn't have been triggered into bloom, and without her powerful _Shun Shun Rikka_, she wouldn't have been able to protect her loved ones. In the early days, she hadn't been entirely successful at protecting them, but it was so much better than nothing! Tatsuki would have been lost…

Then there was the rescue mission into the Soul Society. She had saved the arm of the kind giant Jidanbo with her healing abilities. And Uryuu had fought so hard and bravely once they'd infiltrated the Seireitei, but when that madman Captain Kurotsuchi had ambushed them with an explosion, Orihime had shielded them from harm thanks to her powers.

And after that ordeal was over and the next one came—the Arrancar—Ichigo had defended her, his friend and comrade. And Ichigo and her beloved friends from both Karakura and the Soul Society had banded together to retrieve her from the cold barrenness that was Hueco Mundo.

Ichigo had protected her and given her the means to help others. Once they had been merely classmates, with their closest connection being that her brother had been treated and died at the Kurosaki Clinic. After Seireitei and Hueco Mundo, they weren't as close as Orihime had longed for, but she knew that they had a solid relationship now based on friendship and being comrades in arms.

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_And he was to marry a girl who shone with beauty and light…They loved each other, and with me watched the sunsets into night…_

They had always felt something for each other. Orihime was convinced that it was friendship at first—neither was the type to plunge headfirst into love—but that caring and loyalty and unswerving devotion had developed into something precious that couldn't be denied. Not by them—though God know how they stubbornly tried!—or by anyone who knew them.

The sunset photograph, taken shortly after they'd finally steeled themselves and admitted their affections, was further proof of their quiet desire.

And when Ichigo hosted a party at his home (shocking everyone, as Ichigo was as far from a party animal as one could get) and took Rukia into another room (because even then, he was nervous and uncertain, and if she said no, he could just say he'd thrown a party for the heck of it, then go soothe his broken heart with alcohol), no one was surprised at the result.

A simple silver engagement band, and two young lovers blushing quietly with happiness.

Orihime had known for years that she had lost…but it was that moment where she was convinced she could hear her hope snap in two.

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_And the waves crashing around me…The sand slips out to sea…And the winds that blow remind me of what has been…_

_And what could never be…_

Orihime had told Rukia a few years before that no, she was no longer in love with Ichigo. She hadn't lied to Rukia—Orihime wondered if her feelings hadn't been more admiration and infatuation as opposed to true love.

But it still hurt when Rukia asked Orihime to be Maid of Honor.

"Nii-sama wants to give us a traditional Kuchiki wedding, though it'll be smaller than others have been, thank the gods…but I've heard of this Western custom of the Real World's, this appointment of Maids of Honor and Best Men, so I wanted to incorporate that. If you wouldn't be too uncomfortable with it, would you please be my Maid of Honor?"

At that moment, Orihime would have given anything to be able to refuse. But in the next moment, she realized the gesture might be the best wedding gift she could give them: a sign that she fully supported their choice to build a life together, a move that said she was ready to let go.

"Of course, Kuchiki-san. I'd be honored to be your Maid of Honor!" Her forced giggle at her pun turned into a real one as her friend gave her a relieved and radiant smile.

"Orihime, it's about time you just called me 'Rukia.' "

And so she was seated behind Rukia on the wedding day, clad in a soft pink kimono, with Karin and Yuzu Kurosaki next to her as flower girls. Renji, Chad, and Uryuu knelt across from them as Ichigo's best men. Orihime held quiet tears in her eyes as Ichigo and Rukia said their vows to the priest, a mix of happiness and grief.

She still longed for what could never come to pass, but she had become strong over the years. She would get through this.

And yet again, she was oblivious to Uryuu's gaze.

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_She'd had to leave us; my keeper, he prayed for her safe return…_

A month after the wedding, Rukia was called back to Seireitei.

"There's an influx of Hollows in the east, quite powerful ones. The Thirteenth and Eighth Divisions have been tapped to put them down. It's being seen as overkill by some, but better safe than sorry."

"I'm going with you," Ichigo said sternly.

"Ichigo—"

"I'm going to be Captain of Thirteenth shortly anyway." Ukitake had always been stubborn about talk of retirement in the face of his poor health, but now felt he could safely leave his division in the hands of Isshin Kurosaki's son. "Why shouldn't I show my division I can lead them in battle?"

"You're just being overprotective of me! Besides, it hasn't been all that long since I've been the Thirteenth's Lieutenant-Captain, I can't have them thinking I'm so weak I have to depend on my husband!"

Ichigo nuzzled her cheek. "How's about this? I take a group and fight; you take a group and fight, and never the two shall meet until the battle's over." When his love still looked unhappy, he said, "Hey, final offer, Rukia. You can kick ass later if people say stuff that hurts your pride, but if I have to choose between your pride and your life, I want you to stay alive. We've made it this far. I could never stand to lose you, and I especially can't now."

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_But when the night came, the weather to a raging storm had turned…_

Ichigo's unit had more or less squelched the Hollows in the southeast of Rukongai. Before anyone could celebrate, a Hell Butterfly sped down through the ranks of dirty, bloodied Soul Reapers and perched on Ichigo's shoulder.

_All units to the northeast, repeat, all units to the northeast! Lieutenant-Captain Kurosaki's unit is under siege…_

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_He watched her ship fight, but in vain against the wild and terrible wind…In me so helpless, as dashed against the rocks she met her end…_

Chaos. Blood. Screams. Rukia's unit was being savaged.

And in the middle of all the carnage was Sode no Shirayuki twirling in Rukia's hands, the radiant white blade freezing and dispelling Hollows left and right.

Ichigo was suddenly so proud as he raced toward his wife. _What's she talking about? She would never have been made lieutenant if she wasn't a great fighter on her own!_

A clawed paw flashed out of nowhere and caught Rukia, trapping her arms and torso and hoisting her into the air. The invisible Hollow quickly materialized into lanky arms and legs and swiveling black-pupiled eyes and luminescent skin.

Ichigo flash-stepped faster than light, a voice in his mind roaring** NO**.

Claws sunk into Rukia's chest.

The Hollow disintegrated under the blow from Ichigo's Zangetsu.

But the words that slammed over and over around Ichigo's head as he held his dying wife in his arms were **too late**.

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_And the waves crashing around me  
The sand slips out to sea  
And the winds that blow remind me  
Of what has been and what can never be_

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Ichigo would never have Rukia by his side as his Lieutenant-Captain.

Ichigo would never have children with Rukia.

Ichigo would never wake up with Rukia's sweet face nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder.

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_Then on the next day, my keeper found her washed up on the shore…He kissed her cold face, and that they'd be together soon he swore_

_I saw him crying, watched as he buried her in the sand…_

The memorial service had been brief. Byakuya had arranged a grave next to Hisana, his wife and Rukia's sister. When the emotionless man had stared at the small headstone, a flash of unimaginable pain came across his face before he turned and strode off. He couldn't bear burying yet another woman close to him. Renji followed his captain, devastated at the realization that he was now the only surviving member of the childhood Inuzuri gang left.

The mourners slowly dispersed, leaving only the Karakura gang left. Yoruichi finally beckoned Chad and Uryuu away to give Ichigo privacy. Orihime lingered a moment.

"Ichigo…I'm so sorry." She fought to keep her voice from cracking. "If there's anything you need…if you ever want to talk…"

For a moment it seemed as though he hadn't heard her. Then:

"…I just thought of something, Orihime."

She waited.

"My mother died protecting me from the Grand Fisher. And now Rukia…heh.

"It seems as though Kurosaki men are destined to have their wives die by the hands of Hollows."

As he lay on their bed that night, staring up at the dark ceiling, Ichigo was faced with the tragic conclusion that Rukia was not the only one who had died.

So why should he behave as though he were among the living?

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**Aizen.**

It was Aizen's doing.

People had said that the Winter Wars had never truly ended, because the man behind it all, Sosuke Aizen, had never been confirmed dead. Hueco Mundo was ravaged, the Arrancar forces laid waste, and Aizen's fortress razed to the ground, but his body had never been recovered. Some thought Aizen's carcass had been rendered completely unidentifiable, but with the rising population of powerful Hollows, people had started to wonder.

A day after the Eastern Skirmish, a scroll was sent to Commander-General Yamamoto, reeking of Aizen's reiatsu and claiming responsibility for the attack.

Two weeks after, the Soul Society had pinpointed Aizen's new headquarters in Hueco Mundo. In the years since the Winter Wars, he'd managed to replenish his forces to twice their original strength, and was well under way to lay siege to Soul Society.

But where Aizen no had numbers he hadn't possessed before, Seireitei now had an advantage they'd lacked the first time around.

Ichigo Kurosaki, with absolutely nothing to lose.

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_Then he climbed my tower, and off the edge of me he ran…_

Seireitei flung itself headlong at Aizen. They were going to finish this once and for all or completely perish in the attempt. Neither world would ever be safe so long as that bastard breathed. Soul Reapers rammed their way into the fortress, hacking through the traitorous ex-captain's superior numbers, thirsting for blood after the underhanded Eastern Skirmish. A small contingent of soldiers had been left to guard Seireitei, leaving every single Court Guard Captain to sweep into Hueco Mundo, sending a wave of vengeance and rage whipping through the ranks of Arrancars.

But the ones who were truly unstoppable were the ones who fought in Rukia Kurosaki's name. Renji cut down Hollows like so much wheat in the fields with Zabimaru; Uryuu and Chad pierced and rammed down the enemy before they knew what him them; Yoruichi Shihoin and Kisuke Urahara had been called in to, respectively, aid the Special Forces and bring in new weapons to fight Aizen. Even Orihime joined the fray, acting as both field nurse to her band and to shield and attack.

No one dared get in Ichigo's way.

"It was so surreal," Orihime would later say dazedly, after it was all over.

She was a few yards away, her hands on Uryuu's chest, trying to dam the blood pouring out as he lay propped up against a pillar. She looked up—and saw Ichigo, with Tensa Zangetsu welded to his hand, his black coat flapping behind him as he ran at a stone dais, gunning for Aizen at the top.

Aizen's handsome face twisted into a savage mask. He had the Hogyoku in his hands. Once he'd realized this could very well be the end of him if he didn't take desperate action, he'd been trying to use it to turn himself into an Arrancar. Light shot from the shining orb—he was going to succeed in mere seconds.

Suddenly, a white mask appeared on Ichigo's face. His bankai flashed.

A jagged line went from Aizen's right shoulder to his left hip, leaving a yawning would in his chest. Aizen wore a look of unbelievable shock on his face. The Hogyoku tumbled.

Ichigo took a second to watch the lifeblood flood out of the man who cost him his wife's life. Then he raised his sword as if to skewer the Hogyoku like an olive.

The mask glowed. _"King? Oi, King, what the hell are you doing?"_ came an ugly, distorted voice.

Ichigo's voice growled, "For once, I'm glad you were born in me."

"_What the hell are you doing?!"_

"Finishing this." Orihime could have sworn she heard him whisper, "I'm coming, sweetheart."

And he slammed Tensa Zangetsu into the Hogyoku.

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After the wave of light, and the silence, and the shock, Orihime suddenly woke as if from a dream state to find herself with Ichigo's head in her lap and Uryuu's hand gripping Ichigo's as if the connection was the sole thing keeping the orange-maned warrior tied to life.

It probably was.

"I-Ichi-go—" Why couldn't she control her breathing? Was she crying? "—wh-what happen-ned?"

"My…inner Hollow…" God, his brown eyes were already glazing over in death. "Sacrificed the bastard…for power…destroy…it."

He shifted his head to Uryuu. "Oi…take care…of my family…please?"

Uryuu nodded. He looked like if he opened his mouth to say anything, he'd just cry.

"…'Hime…"

Orihime watched tears roll down his face. Droplets tumbled down her own face and splashed onto his.

"Thank you."

And it was done.

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_And the waves crashing around me  
The sand slips out to sea  
And the winds that blow remind me  
Of what has been and what can never be_

Orihime wiped her eyes and set the picture frame on her stomach. She was normally able to push the horrible memories aside and remember all the good memories Rukia and Ichigo left her…it was just on gloomy nights like this, nights that encouraged sad remembrance, that she brooded on what had happened.

The door knob rattled.

"'Hime?"

Uryuu nudged off his shoes, let his briefcase land on the floor with a _thunk_, and padded over to their futon. He smiled sadly. He'd been correct in thinking that the weather would trigger her memories.

"Why the mournful mug, princess?" Orihime smiled as he settled himself down next to her. Those were the words he always said to pull her out of a mood.

"Just thinking about what has been…and what can never be."

Uryuu situated his shoulder under her head and lifted the picture frame. "Three years…it seems like a lifetime since they've been gone."

"I know. I've come to terms with the fact that they're not coming back…but…"

"But?"

"…Do you think they found each other?"

Uryuu turned to wrap his arms around Orihime. "Let's analyze the situation," he said briskly. "We're talking about a man who activated the latent spiritual powers in all his high school friends…achieved bankai in less than three days when he was fifteen… defeated his future brother-in-law in a battle for the ages…fought captain-class shinigami and Arrancar without being the worse for wear…and defeated Aizen and destroyed the Hogyoku." Uryuu laughed. "If there's anything that could keep him from Rukia, I'd love to see it so I can believe it! Most certainly not something as petty as death!"

Orihime pressed a kiss on his chin, drawing a smile from him. "Feeling better, Mrs. Ishida?"

"Much better, Mr. Ishida. By the way, why did you want me to go in for tests today, Uryuu? Did you figure why I've felt so poorly lately?"

"Well…" Uryuu beamed. "Dad ran the tests…then when I got the results, I redid them personally, just to be sure."

"You don't have to worry so, Uryuu. It's not the end of the world if I have the flu."

"It's not." He reached into his jacket and drew out a test results paper, holding it for her perusal.

Her jaw dropped. "I'm—I'm—I'm….?"

"Another Quincy archer would be nice, but if it's a Quincy princess, I'll be just as happy."

Orihime kissed her husband and pressed his hand to her still flat stomach.

_We'll need to go back to the Soul Society to tell Ichigo and Rukia the news, _she thought, thinking of their twin graves residing under a sakura tree._ We need to let them know that while our lives are moving on, we haven't forgotten them._

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_I am a lighthouse worn by the weather and the waves  
And though I'm empty I still warn the sailors on their way_

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**Sheherazade's Blah Blah Blah**

Hullo! Sheherazade here. Whew, this was a big one. Why can I never make short stories?! The thing just kept going! I know it's more of an Orihime fic, but please bear with me. Ichigo and Rukia are the central couple, and the story had to be told from Orihime's point of view, 'cause that's how inspiration struck me with this song.

The song is The Lighthouse's Tale by Nickel Creek. It's a tale of love and tragedy, and the lighthouse reminded me so much of Orihime. I was going to have this end very angsty and tragically…but I'm such a sap for happy endings. Ichigo and Rukia still die, but Orihime and Uryuu live on for them. Uryuu just sorta popped up in my head towards the beginning of writing this and said, "I need more love!" So the fic ends with him and 'Hime together, with her not being 'empty' at all because of the little life within her.

I need to work on the eleventh chapter of _The Juunishi Host Club_ now. Please check it out!

**Please review with praise and/or constructive criticism! Thank you!!**


	3. The Tenth Muse

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Bleach or anything related to it; I just own my writing, and the poems Ichigo wrote.

**The Tenth Muse**

_Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth_

_Than those old nine which rhymers invocate_

_--From_ Sonnet 38_,_ _William Shakespeare_

It wasn't common for a calm day to visit the Kurosaki residence; Rukia saw it as a chance to give her brand new markers a testdrive, while Ichigo took it as an opportunity to hit the books, despite his partner's scolding to relax. ("Whaddaya want me to tell my teacher? 'M'am, a Menos Grande ate my homework'?")

Rukia had bounced atop his bed and settled to produce Chappy sketches with a vengeance. Late in the afternoon, she glanced at the corner of his desk, spotting a piece of scratch paper. She needed to try out different color combinations for her next set of drawings, and so grabbed it and the book it lay on for a hard surface, nudging her sketchpad out of the way. Engrossed as he was in his homework, Ichigo didn't notice.

Wielding a wonderfully new marker ("Strawberry Scarlet"), Rukia was ready to doodle—when she noticed some ink had bled through from the other side. Ichigo was tackling math at the moment; she absently flipped the paper over, expecting random busywork problems.

But no. Not numbers…words.

Her breath caught. Stock-still on the bed, her blue gaze slid over Ichigo, his back hunched over, still plowing through schoolwork, back to the surprise between her fingers:

_Her figure sways with inborn grace;_

_Moon dims beside her cherished face;_

_Her eyes are windows to the sky_

_Of her bright soul, they mesmerize;_

_Skin warm like silk, hair dark like sin_

_With her in my arms I'd glad begin._

What the hell—? Did Ichigo…?

Yes, it was his handwriting alright. Besides the obvious question of what the hell was he doing composing this stuff….there was the matter of _who_ this composition described.

A fantasy girl conjured by his imagination? Someone at school? The only females who popped into her head who had dark hair were Tatsuki Arisawa and Ryo Kunieda, the trackstar/bookworm. Ichigo didn't know Ryo all that well, and while Tatsuki was attractive in her own feisty, self-assured, spitfire and sass kind of way, Rukia couldn't see her being Ichigo Kurosaki's poetic muse.

"_Her eyes are windows to the sky"_…yes, there was the old saying "the eyes are the windows to the soul," but could there be another meaning? The sky is blue, so assuming she was on the right track, the Strawberry's muse was a dark-haired girl with blue—

"_Rukia, what the hell?!"_

She nearly jumped a foot at Ichigo's bark. The paper almost tore as it was whipped out of her hands. "Sorry, I thought it was scratch paper!" she snapped back.

"Well, get your own—" He yelped when Rukia flicked her index finger hard between his eyes and snatched the poem back.

"I didn't know you were such a poet," she drawled, that damn smirk playing on her mouth. "Wonder who the lucky girl could be? She must be something if she has you waxing on like Shakespeare."

"There is no girl, it doesn't mean anything!" he snarled, running a hand through his orange hair. If looks could kill, Rukia thought gleefully, that scowl would strike her dead. "It's just—you know—my English assignment—"

Ichigo grabbed the book still on Rukia's lap and waved it in her face.

"_The Sonnets of William Shakespeare_?"

"When I read his stuff, I get into the…_rhythm_ of his words, the feeling," Ichigo explained awkwardly. He crossed his arms defensively. "And pretty soon I start rhyming crap in my head…and I just have to get it on paper, I can't control it. It doesn't mean anything," he repeated vehemently, "it's completely random."

Ichigo realized she wasn't smirking at him anymore, but staring down at the crumpled poem. "If it doesn't mean anything…can I keep it? I won't show it to anyone," she added hurriedly before he could protest. "It just seems a shame to throw beautiful words away."

He couldn't deny the midnight eyes boring into his. He averted his own gaze, hoping to whatever powers might be that he wasn't blushing. "It's junk, Rukia, sappy junk a two-year-old could surpass. I dunno what you see in it."

With an air of finality, she folded the paper and tucked it in her skirt pocket. "They're wonderful, Ichigo. They show a side of you I almost never get to see, Mr. Badass Shinigami," she teased, kicking him lightly as she moved off the bed.

"Besides…" Rukia turned back to grin at him. "Call me conceited, but I rather think your random, meaningless words describe _me_."

Ichigo froze.

"I'd like to get a poem like this from an admirer. Although I'm not sure about 'hair dark like sin.' Oddly sensual, yes," she pondered playfully, tapping her chin, "but I don't think I could drive anyone to sin if I were in his arms."

"You'd be surprised," Ichigo muttered softly. His voice had gone strangely rough. "I mean, you nearly drive me to murder sometimes, crazy midget-girl," he added quickly.

"You cut me, Ichigo," Rukia drawled, looking over her shoulder at him in that maddeningly teasing way, "you truly cut me." She clambered into her closet-turned-bedroom. Before closing the sliding door she paused, as if weighing the wisdom of what she wanted to say.

Ichigo leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "You wanna say something?"

"Yeah…" Rukia cocked her head. "Keep composing, Ichigo. I'm sure whoever your muse is would be flattered."

And the door shut.

Ichigo sat frozen in his seat, staring at the closet.

Blushing.

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Over the next few days, Rukia noticed Ichigo spent an awful lot of time at his desk. Of course, there were unavoidable distractions, such as having school to attend, Hollows to dispatch, and dinner with his family. But moments where he would normally be reading a book, strumming on his guitar, or (his most consuming pastime) bickering with her, he would instead finish off his homework in record time and spend the rest of the night hypnotized. That is, he would sit at the desk and stare out his window with a far-off look on his face. Then, after several minutes of stillness, he'd tear his gaze away and scribble something on a paper tablet on the desk. The pattern repeated again…and again…until Rukia absolutely _had to know_ what the hell he was writing.

And of course Ichigo had to be such a pain. No matter how sneaky she was, she could never manage to sneak a peek at his writing. She was silent as a mouse, but he always sensed when she was behind him, and quickly covered his paper. He tore out the pages and tucked them in his pocket when he left his room. He even locked them in his desk drawer when he went to sleep.

And when he woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of Rukia attempting to pick the lock with a paperclip, he merely glared, retrieved the paper, and defiantly stuffed them down the sweatpants he'd worn to bed.

She made no further attempt to steal them.

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Finally—after four solid days of searching for the perfect opportunity—Ichigo finally tripped up.

They were called out to handle a couple Hollows; after promptly cutting them down, Ichigo said, "Hey, you can head back, Rukia. I'm going over to the Urahara Shoten, I need to ask him about sedatives."

"For what?"

"Kon."

"Ah."

Kon was still in very hot water with the both of them; after Rukia woke up one morning to find the mod soul using her chest as his pillow, he had been slammed out of the closet by his 'Nee-san', flung out the window by (an extremely pissed) Ichigo, and summarily exiled to Yuzu and Karin's room for an indeterminate amount of time. Needless to say, Yuzu had been thrilled to find that her adorable stuffed teddy 'Bostoff' had reappeared, and took out all the adorable dresses and bonnets she'd made for him…

Rukia hopped back into Ichigo's bedroom window—and her eye caught site of an open folder on his desk, full of the papers he'd left in his rush to go after the Hollows.

**Hot. Damn.**

She bounded off the bed, across the floor, and dove into the closet and her prone _gigai_. She stuttered to a halt before the desk and stared at the various and slightly crumpled papers in the folder.

_Now, to see what our little Shakespeare Junior is composing…_

Rukia plucked up a sheet. Most of it was covered with lines of print that had been messily crossed out. She saw towards the bottom what he must have finally settled on as his final product:

_You could shake me_

_You could break me_

_You could take me_

_For a fool and be right_

_For when it comes to you,_

_I'll be the court fool,_

_The high king,_

_Or your knight._

"And Ichigo Kurosaki's muse strikes again," Rukia breathed. "By the gods, that's sappy."

_By the gods, that's beautiful._

She laid the paper aside and reached for the next. Again, Ichigo must have drained a pen of it's lifeblood—what he had been trying to write had been revised repeatedly with plenty of ink, leaving another surprisingly short final draft:

_She does not walk in beauty, like the night_

_She is beauty, and the night_

_With stars and planets_

_Cannot begin to compare_

_Or to complement_

_The moon._

_And like the moon_

_And like the night_

_She is there_

_And I cannot touch her_

_But I need to_

No wonder he'd never let her look at these. She was flushing at the mere thought of Ichigo writing these to some nameless, faceless benefactress of his inspiration. These were such personal writings, but her hands kept reaching for paper after paper, wanting more.

_Take your hand and place it on my chest_

_And listen to the drum within._

_When the drum is silenced_

_That's when I'll stop needing you._

_Maybe._

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Ichigo balanced on the air outside his house and leaned against his window to look within at the scene he'd set up. It was amazing how easily she bought his story of going to the shoten. He kept silent, his eyes traveling over Rukia's face, taking in the flushed cheeks and wide eyes and the way her mouth had parted slightly in her surprise and longing.

He wanted to leap into the room and give her even more to blush about—but firmly reigned himself in. That was a surefire way to break the spell he had cast on her.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He jumped up to the roof, making sure he made a loud thump.

"Oi, Rukia, I'm back!"

Ichigo couldn't help but grin as he heard her muffle a shriek and scramble away from his desk. He swung into his room and ambled over to his body propped up against the wall.

"Urahara said it'd be unethical to give Kon sedatives," he said as he slipped back into his body, "so I guess we're outta luck."

His partner, trying to act nonchalant, was sitting in her closet with a manga in hand.

"W-wow, hell of a time for him to grow a conscience, huh?"

"No kidding." Ichigo smiled, taking in her still reddened cheeks.

"What?"

Ichigo slowly prowled over to her. Her eyes narrowed as he slowly bent his face near hers, that smirk still on his face.

He reached out, tugged away her book, flipped it, and gave it back.

"You're not supposed to read the book upside down, Rukia."

And all she could do was stare.

Ichigo turned away, still smiling.

He would leave her in the dark about just who his muse was for just a little longer. Just until Rukia inspired the perfect poem that would give him the confidence to reveal that it was her all along.

She was the one who could inspire him to sin without a thought.

She was the tenth muse; _his_ muse.

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**Sheherazade's Blah Blah Blah**

Thank you for reading this. I hoped you enjoyed it! Please review; no matter how short, they're always a joy to read!

All the oneshots in this series are unconnected, unless specifically stated. In this case, The Tenth Muse and the next oneshot, Natural Disaster, are connected—so I guess that makes this a twoshot.

Just incase anyone's wondering, Ichigo only put the papers inside his sweatpants, not his underwear. blush I don't think Rukia would be bold enough to try and rummage through his pants as he slept, that's why he did it.

I wrote "Ichigo's" poems; I hope they weren't cheesy or anything. And if anyone thinks they're stuff Ichigo would never say, I agree; but that doesn't mean he doesn't think them. Ichigo's very academically smart, and I think (at least in his thoughts) he's quite articulate.

And about the previous shot, _The Lighthouse's Tale_: I'm wondering if there is some confusion with the end of that. When Orihime thinks that they have to tell Ichigo and Rukia in Soul Society about the news, she means they should go visit their graves in Seireitei, not that they died and are still living in Soul Society. I'll go back and edit that last bit, to make sure confusion is avoided.

**Thank you everyone **who reviewed _Lullabies_ and _Lighthouse_! Also, please take a look at my other yarns, _The Juunishi Host Club_ and _Children of Clow_ (which I need to plan out the rest of the storyline for, but I** swear** that will get updated) and please look forward to the second part of the two shot, _Natural Disaster_, which should be finished shortly!


	4. Natural Disaster

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach or anything affiliated with it. I only own my writing and the poem "Natural Disaster."

Warning: Things get…steamy. If you're still interested, read on and please don't be offended. Or burst out laughing. _(hides face)_

_/_

_/_

**Natural Disaster**

Rukia clambered through Ichigo's bedroom window, a plastic bag swinging at her elbow. She had purchased a couple soft drinks for them both to consume while she helped him study for finals a few weeks away. (She promised to quiz him, but didn't plan on studying herself—who in Seireitei was going to care what she got on mortal children's tests?)

Now, she was a bit put out, as it appeared her shinigami partner was nowhere to be seen. Ichigo had said he would start making flash cards if she would please go down to the convenience store and buy sugary, caffeine-loaded soda pops to keep them awake.

"We had _six frickin' Hollows_ interrupt us yesterday! We're pulling an all-nighter, Rukia, and we're not gonna stop!"

"That's what she said," she shot back slyly.

_"Rukia—"_

"Admit it. That was the_ perfect_ opening."

Rukia had grumbled at his sudden manic need to study, but what the heck, tomorrow was Sunday, they could sleep in. Besides, it was something to do, though she'd much rather lie in her closet and look over the poems of Ichigo's she'd managed to copy.

_And this is, what, the six thousandth time you've pored over them?_

She pushed the uncomfortable thought out of her head. True, she'd pored over them quite a bit lately…but they were nice poems! Could she be faulted with being a lover of the fine arts?

_…Yeah, that sounds like bull even to me._

Rukia sighed, then came back to her observation that Ichigo was no where to be found. The room lights and desk lamp were off, leaving only the full moon's beams to provide dim illumination. There weren't even index cards or pens out to show he'd been doing what he said he would.

_Wait_, she thought before she could get absolutely cross_, did his deputy badge go off? Oh hell, now I don't have a clue where he is—no, if a Hollow was near, I'd have received an alert myself…_

And Ichigo wouldn't have bothered to put his study things away, nor turn off his lights. Conservation of energy didn't rank high on his list when a Hollow was on a rampage somewhere in Karakura. He couldn't be talking with his family, since they'd long since gone to bed. Maybe he'd done something as mundane as go downstairs for snacks…

She set the drinks on the desk—and saw the manila folder miraculously left on top. A smile spread on her face and she reached for it, but paused.

"He put away his schoolbooks, but not the poetry folder he's been hiding from me?" she murmured. She shrugged. "Oh well…" _So protective of his poetry, but now so careless about where he leaves it…how strange…_

Rukia flipped it open, preparing to rummage through it to see if any new poems had been written since she had first discovered it a few days previously. Conveniently, a dark red letter was right on top. She squinted, but the black ink and scarlet paper didn't make for easy reading. She padded over to Ichigo's bed and knelt atop it, holding the paper up to the window. Unlike the other papers, there were no messy revisions on it—just a clean final draft in flowing ink.

By the second verse, her heart was lodged in her throat.

"O-Oh…"

It wasn't…explicit. No one could call it explicit, but it was…suggestive. Slightly provocative. Vaguely arousing. More than vaguely, really—it was quite arousing, it was—it was—_damn_—

She was done reading, but just once wasn't enough, she was still in shock by what she read. Rukia looked over the words again. She felt her face heating up. One of her hands reached up and gripped her neck, because she could have sworn she felt kisses pressed on them, just like the poem said. She could have sworn she felt a breeze on the bare skin of her shoulders, just like the poem said, though she wore a sleeved blouse.

This time, Rukia couldn't even begin to try lying to herself in her head.

She was completely shaken.

"I…" she whispered. "I…would give anything to be the girl he wrote this for."

"You are."

And there he was. Leaning in his open doorway with only his eyes catching the meager light and shining out from the dark.

"How long have you been there?" she asked softly.

"Since you started reading."

Rukia pressed the letter to her chest, as though it could shield her from embarrassment. "I guess this is what I get for being nosy."

"Yeah." Without cutting his locked gaze from hers, he shut the door behind him. "But if you wouldn't object…I'd like to give you more."

_Sshmp._

The door bolt slid into place.

"What do you mean?" Good, her voice didn't stammer. "I'm sorry for peeping at your private writing; it was wrong of me. If I can make it up to—"

"Why should you apologize," Ichigo murmured, standing before the bedside, right in front of her, "for reading a letter intended for you?"

"…Me?"

"You're my muse, Rukia." His hands slowly lifted, hesitant, shy, unused to being anywhere near a woman's skin, until they finally cupped her face, threading through the dark hair at her temples_. " 'Be thou the tenth Muse," _he breathed, _"ten times more in worth than those old nine which rhymers invocate…' "_

The tenth muse covered his left hand with her own small hands, leaving the letter to float to the side and realizing that those poems, those_ love poems_, were for her. By admitting she was his inspiration, Ichigo had just laid his soul on the guillotine, with no idea if she would slice him or save him. She nuzzled his palm, quietly laughing.

"This can't be happening, you know. It's absurd! Nothing this good happens to me. Nothing this good can ever happen to me."

A flash of panic raced through him. "Don't run now, Rukia—"

"Rukongai brats don't fall, Ichigo. Kuchiki don't fall. Shinigami don't fall—"

"In what, Rukia, they don't fall in what?"

He crouched and his face was inches before hers, and her vision was filled with his eyes. They blazed as they only did in battle, but by God, he considered this one of the most important battles he'd ever face.

"They don't fall in love."

His arms slid around her waist and he straightened his back, hoisting her up so she was pressed against his chest and her legs were half bent, feet still pressed against the mattress.

"That's bull." Her eyes were wary as they stared up at him. If he didn't keep his arms around her, she'd bolt. "That's bull and you know it." He kissed her forehead. "'Cause they do." Her cheek. "They all do."

"I can't run, can I?"

"I'd come after you." Her other cheek.

"…I want you."

The kisses halted.

"I need you." She slid out of his embrace and stepped onto the floor. "And I…I deserve you. No matter what I've done in my life…you make me feel I'm worthy of you."

Her blue gaze—those amazing midnight eyes—rose to meet his.

"I love you."

_She looks at me and then it starts_

_The drums resounding in my heart_

_And I begin to play my part_

_In this natural disaster_

She said it.

Ichigo felt his ears ringing, heard the blood ramming through them.

_She said it._

One look and three words and his chest felt about to burst.

Rukia took a small step toward him. Her arms opened, her hands shyly reached, wanting him.

"Ichigo…?"

He caught her about the waist and lifted her again, loving how her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her stomach rubbing against his chest. One hand slid up her spine, trying to press her even closer as her arms wove around his neck. Midnight hair tickled his face as she dipped her head and caught his mouth with chaste, heated, fumbling, close-mouthed kisses.

_We're going really fast._

Ichigo pulled his mouth from hers with a groan. He toppled them onto his bed, slipping out of Rukia's limbs, knees hitting the floor. She rose and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for him again. He dove at her throat, kissing along its porcelain length. After a moment's hesitation, he licked the junction between neck and shoulder and was rewarded with a low moan and her head falling back.

_She takes a step, I make a move_

_A wildfire touch not meant to soothe_

_Lips at her neck meant to prove_

_I'm a natural disaster_

"Rukia…we gotta slow down…"

Hands slid across his chest, stealing his breath. Her dazed expression turned into a fixed stare. Impatient didn't come close to describing it.

"I've waited more than a century for you, Kurosaki," she growled softly. "Don't ask me to be patient!"

He kissed her again. Finally, their tongues sneaked out, stroking softly. He caught the front of her indigo blouse and fiddled with the buttons.

"This is my first time doing anything like this, Kuchiki," he rumbled back in a new rough, low timber. God, she could feel his voice vibrating through her. "Don't ask me to mess this up!"

The buttons (_the idiotically tiny buttons_) might as well have been a chastity belt, refusing to part. Perhaps it was because his fingers were trembling so badly.

When it took forever to undo two of seven buttons, his temper broke.

"Screw it!" Buttons snapped off the blouse, clicking softly as they hit the floor. A ripping sound was heard, and Ichigo dimly registered that he probably tore the thin cloth of the shirt itself.

"You better sew"—she laughed against his mouth—"those back on"—her lips trailed down his throat, nipped his collarbone—"for me later."

He helped her shrug off her top, his fingers rejoicing at the feel of her soft arms. "Whatever you say, love." _You know a man's gone off the deep end,_ he thought, _when his girl's bare shoulders are enough to drive him wild._

But she still wasn't as unclothed as he'd like her to be. A modest black camisole still covered her. Chuckling, he nudged down the straps of her bra and camisole, pleased he heard her breath catch. Slowly he began to raise the hem, his hand sliding up her stomach. But what to do with the other hand? The devil in him decided to tease her further—his fingers danced from her knee up her thigh, slipping under her skirt.

Rukia slapped her hand on his skirt-roaming hand, fear telling her to push it off, but desire overrode it and urged her to guide his warm fingers higher. Her other hand dug into his hair, as though Ichigo would actually pull away from where he was planting open-mouthed kisses atop her left breast.

_Buttons slip, a fumbling tear,_

_I much prefer her shoulders bare_

_A nip, a gasp, hands grip my hair_

_I'm her natural disaster_

His goal was reached: one hand brushing across her bottom, the other cupped a small, warm breast through her brassiere. A bolt of fear cut through his feverish desire for his petite partner.

"Don't mean to kill the moment—" Ichigo huffed, trying to catch his breath.

"Then don't." Her lips easily stole his air again.

He broke away; he needed to get this out _now_. "—but I don't know what the hell I'm doing," he rasped. "So don't expect stars. I wanna make you see stars, but I donno if I can, I'm going completely on instinct here."

Rukia dropped her head back and let out a deep chuckle. "Ichigo, when we met I gave you my power and basically turned you loose on Hollows, fighting them came so naturally to you. With minimal knowledge, you busted into Soul Society for me! You've been running on instinct for a long time—" She smiled and dragged the cami off completely. "—and it's served you well.

"When it comes to this, we're on equal ground. I've only dreamed of going this far with a man. We'll have to teach each other."

Ichigo eased her back onto the mattress, shifting his palm on her breast so it was pressed directly over her heart.

"Just be patient, okay?" he whispered. " 'Cause I won't stop 'til I get it right. I won't stop until there's not a doubt in your mind how much you mean to me…"

She smiled tenderly, wondrously up at him, sending his heart into overdrive. Her eyes were nearly black; all the beautiful blue had receded in face of the excitement humming through her. Her finger hooked his collar and tugged him down, a sliver away from her mouth.

"Show me, hotshot."

His grin turned feral. How could he resist such a challenge?

_Her eyes turn dark and reel me in_

_Desire burns beneath her skin_

_To win her heart I'll gladly sin_

_She's a natural disaster_

Soft gulping gasps and snapping sounds littered the silence as Rukia exacted revenge on Ichigo's button up shirt. Two pairs of hands wound up fighting, each trying to unhook her bra first. Her white skirt slithered off the bed, his pants were kicked off.

And each was bare as day before the other. Rukia slowly ran her hands down his muscled chest and taut stomach, and was enchanted when her gesture caused Ichigo to shudder. She drew away before she touched his most private place, shivering in desire and shyness.

_Her curves entrance, her body quakes_

_But wants to move as lovers make_

_One touch from her, I start to shake_

_She's my natural disaster_

"Second thoughts?" Any restraint or gentleness he still retained was about to vanish; the impassioned shriek she swallowed didn't help. But with her breast in his mouth, she couldn't be faulted.

"You just want an excuse to chicken out," she dared breathlessly.

It became almost a game. She touched him here, hoping he'd like her attentions (he always did). He touched her there, hoping for pleased sounds from her throat (they always came). Lips, tongues, fingers, the brush of hair, a nudge of hips, skin on skin, warm breaths mixing…

It was as though the room had flown up and up, gaining altitude, because oxygen became harder to find and their thoughts turned dizzy. Foreplay had officially flown out the window; something desperate now ruled.

When he was finally within, Rukia's heart stopped. Ichigo stared at her, fighting the urge to move.

"Are—are you…okay?"

_Oh God, her eyes, her eyes, my everything, looking at me like I'm _her _everything—_

She rolled her hips, nearly undoing him.

"_I'm amazing,"_ she breathed.

_"Damn straight you are."_

He surged forward, kissing her to swallow her heated moan.

_"Hang on. This'll be a wild ride."_

_We can't turn back, we burn too bright_

_Our fires join, our souls alight_

_This can't be wrong, it feels so right_

_We're a natural disaster_

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**Sheherazade's Blah Blah Blah**

Hullo! Thank you for reading the second half of this two-shot, begun in The Tenth Muse. **Please please pretty please with sugar, cherries, and gratitude on top review!!** Long or short, reviews brighten my day! I'm always anxious to hear your opinions, especially so for this fic.

This is my first…lemon? Would this be considered a lemon? You tell me! I don't think I was awfully explicit. I tried to be vague at some points, mostly because this is my first time writing something like this, and because I didn't want to bump this up to an M rating. People would think I'm some hardcore stuff writer then, when I'm too much of a chicken to try and be one! I've mainly been composing humorous stuff (i.e. _The Juunishi Host Club_).

I originally intended for it to be a steamy makeout scene and end it there…Yeah, that flew out the window in a hurry. I don't think this first foray flopped (completely) but that's what your reviews are for.

**Thank you CharmedNightSky, midnightwaters, Oliviax3, and LithiumRukia for reviewing this collection so far!**


	5. With Friends Like These

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach; I only own this story.

_This is an alternate universe. Please Review! Thank you _**JadeRent**_ and _**Aldo Montoya**_ for reviewing last chapter! Edit: Fixed a couple typos._

_/_

_/_

**With Friends Like These**

_We are advertis'd by our loving friends._

_William Shakespeare, King Henry the Sixth, Act V., Scene III_

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_I'd rather let hot wax drip into my eyeballs…_

"—And he's quite handsome—"

…_slam a hammer into my teeth…_

"—Not to mention he has a great personality—"

…_or jump off a ten story building with my underwear on fire…_

"—So…what do you say?"

…_rather than go through the hell you have planned for me._

Rukia forced her lips to curl in the biggest smile possible.

"He sounds marvelous, Nee-chan!"

_Ohhh, the hell I go through for sisterly love…_

Hisana Kuchiki smiled joyously at her baby sister. She had been apprehensive; Rukia didn't like interference in her social life, and could be quite cross and loud when faced with "meddling", as she put it. Hisana had been worried at Rukia's decision to talk in a public café, but so far things were going well.

"I knew he'd sound appealing to you! I'm not saying you _have_ to see him, but when Isshin-san talked about him—"

Rukia's smile dropped like a brick. "What? You mean…you didn't actually _interact _with this guy? You just heard someone else talk about him?"

The older woman looked puzzled, idly stirring her tea. "Well, yes, but Isshin-san is very truthful. Why wouldn't I take his word for it?"

_Because I've met him, and your doctor is a well-meaning, melodramatic nutjob._ "Because, how do I put this…Kurosaki-sensei is known to exaggerate things, Nee-chan. If he thought he was a helping out a friend, wouldn't he be tempted to, eh, _embellish_ his good qualities to get him a date?"

"Oh, it's not a friend!" Hisana beamed brightly. "It's his son!"

Rukia's forehead rammed onto the table.

"Rukia!"

"Nee-chan!" Rukia lifted her eyes pleadingly. "If the guy's his son, _of course_ he'd try to make him look good! The kid could be a total sociopath, but his loving papa would just say he's shy and misunderstood! You're putting my life on the line here."

Hisana took her sister's hands in hers. "Rue-chan," she wheedled, "couldn't you give this guy a chance? It doesn't have to be romantic, you could just use it as a chance to leave your dorm!" She tenderly brushed Rukia's stubborn lock of dark hair off her nose. "Rue-chan, if you didn't leave your room for classes, you'd be a hermit."

"What are you talking about, I go out with friends!"

"Hoofing it to the Urahara Ramen Shop twice weekly hardly counts."

"I go with Orihime, and Tatsuki, Momo, Nanao, Rangiku…"

"And that girl Chizuru right?" Hisana pretty face frowned. "She seems nice enough, but I get bad vibes from her…"

"Don't worry, between 'Hime and Rangiku, her attention span's too full to bother with me."

"What do you mean?"

"My boobs aren't big enough."

"Rue-chan!"

"But anyway, I have dinner with you and Nii-sama on Sundays. Dinner, ramen, classes, and my part-time job—my life is teeming with activity! If I included dating, my calendar would explode, Nee-chan." Rukia glanced down at her watch. "Sorry, I have to go to my afternoon class!"

Hisana sighed, watching her sister dig out money for her tea and a tip. "Oh, don't bother, I'll get the tab. You're a poor college student, right?"

Rukia put the money down anyway. "Not as poor as some, you and Nii-sama give me a pretty nice allowance."

Hisana pushed it back. "I'll pay—and you promise me to consider Isshin-san's boy. He's your age, you know, and I'm sure you'd become friends at the very least."

Rukia smiled—genuinely this time—and squeezed Hisana's hand. "I promise, Nee-chan." She knew when to bow to the wishes of her normally undemanding sister.

It was only when Rukia walked off and turned the corner that it struck Hisana that, in her rush to tell Rukia all the Kurosaki boy's good points, she had completely forgotten to say his first name.

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Rukia felt fortunate to not only have classes that concerned subjects she enjoyed, they were classes where most of the people were friendly and amusing. Her Creative Writing class was full of people she had quickly befriended, including two of the people she "hoofed" to the Urahara Ramen Shop with.

As soon as she entered the room, filled with students jabbering away, Orihime called her over. "Rukia-chan, thank goodness you're here to back me up!"

Rukia looked at her warily as she climbed up the steps to her seat.

"Tatsuki-chan says peanut butter and string beans shouldn't be mixed, but I disagree. You have to help me make her see reason!"

Sitting beside her bubbly friend, Tatsuki shot Rukia a pleading look.

"Eh…Y'know what, I think I'll sit out on this debate, 'Hime-chan." She hoped her face wasn't turning green at the nauseating combination.

"But Rukia-chan…!"

_eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek_

People shrieked at the excruciating squeal of nails raking the blackboard.

"Get in your seats and quit yakking, my pretty little minions," a wickedly-pleased voice reverberated. "Time is short and I'll need all the time I can get to slice and dice the drivel you cough up and dare call 'writing'."

The class gulped in unison, staring in fear and reverence at their professor, Ms. Yoruichi Shihoin. It wasn't that Yoruichi was evil; she was merely unafraid to voice her honest opinion about someone's work, whether to provide encouragement or correction. She just took sadistic pleasure in scaring the pants off her students.

"Your assignment was to write about how you see yourself in the future. Speak loudly, don't slouch, and you lose one point for each "um" that escapes your lips. Yes, I'm looking at you, Yamada-kun."

Hanataro Yamada blushed and slid down his seat.

"Ishida, you're up first, Kojima, you're on deck, Asano, you're third, and yes, I did pick random names out of a hat."

As Uryuu Ishida stepped down to present his assignment, Rukia turned to whisper to her seatmate, Hanataro. "Hey, Hanataro, do you know a Kurosaki? His dad runs the clinic in town."

"Um, no, but I've heard of him. I think his name's Ichi…Ichiro?"

"What else have you heard?"

"Well, um, he's got orange hair—"

_"Orange?"_

He nodded. "And he's always scowling, and he's a fantastic fighter! Um, they say he could freeze your blood with his eyes, and kick out your teeth before you could say 'Mommy!' "

Rukia laid her head on her books and groaned softly. _Note to self: Tell Hisana never to believe another word out of her doctor's mouth unless it pertains to medicine._

"What's wrong?" Tatsuki twisted around in her seat at Rukia's groan.

"My sister nearly set me up to date a murderous punk."

_"Huh?"_

"She went for a checkup yesterday, and the doctor talked about his son, how he's a junior at Karakura University, and he's handsome and charming and smart," Rukia grumbled. "But the doc's known for his tendency to exaggerate, so the guy's probably a hunchback with the charm of a rock and possesses the intelligence of one. And now Hanataro tells me he's this monstrous brute…"

"Oh, well, remember Quasimodo! He was a wonderful hunchback!"

Tatsuki sighed. "Hime, I'm not sure mentioning Walt Disney will help. What's the guy's name?"

"Kurosaki. What?" The girls had gone silent.

"Uh, we know him, we went to high school with him in fact."

"Yes, your family only moved here the summer after we graduated, didn't you Rukia-chan? So you wouldn't know him."

"It's true he can fight; we grew up taking martial arts classes together. And wherever there was a fight, he was probably involved, but to be fair, it was other people who'd instigate it. He always caught flack 'cause of his hair. And he always scowled, which didn't exactly invite people to make friends." Tatsuki sighed. "We always had to drag him to parties, or else he'd hole up in his room to study."

"Oh yes, he's very studious," Orihime interjected. "He wasn't in any clubs, so he'd go straight home and do homework. He was always on the honor roll. And now he's studying to be a doctor! He's just here at Karakura to get basic courses out of the way and save money."

"He shouldn't be concerned about money, he's racked up enough scholarships…"

Rukia raised an eyebrow. "So…then it's true he's smart, with good work habits…but he's also unsociable, bad-tempered, and violent?"

"He's only violent when provoked!" Orihime protested.

"Are you talking about my wrath, Inoue-san?"

The quartet froze. They slowly turned and raised their eyes to see Yoruichi-sensei looming beside them, arms crossed, her eyes shining down at her students.

"You're among my best pupils, so I'll consider this as simply an aberration from your normal good behavior. But since you seem so eager to talk, why don't we cut Asano-kun a break and have you four present?"

The room heard Keigo Asano sigh loudly and aim a _"Thank you!"_ at the group before Orihime cried "Oh, may I go first? Please!"

"Sure, take it away, Inoue-san."

The class listened in mounting confusion and shock as Orihime described how, in the future, she would be a chef serving delicious meals of varying creativity (such as string beans topped with peanut butter, cinnamon rolls topped with foie gras, broccoli and banana ice cream, and so on) to her clients.

"…And so, I very much look forward to my future."

Rukia bristled when she and the rest of the class heard Keigo sputter, unable to contain his hysterics.

"That was wonderful, Orihime," she said, staring straight at her disrespectful classmate. "You showed you have imagination by the truckload. I bet your future's bright, unlike some people who couldn't even finish their assignment and have to scribble it down while they think the teacher isn't looking."

Quiet snickers were heard as Keigo did his best to be invisible.

"Very true, Kuchiki-san." Rukia was surprised to see Yoruichi smiling at her. "Mind reading yours next?"

"My pleasure, _Sensei_."

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Dinner that evening was a lively affair.

Rangiku Matsumoto slammed open the door to the Urahara Ramen Shop and threw up her arms, her chest bouncing merrily. _"Ohhh, Kisuke-san! Look who's back!"_

"Ah, Rangiku-san! Things are always so hum-drum until you arrive. And you brought the rest of the Ramen Gang!" Kisuke Urahara swept out from behind the counter, twirling his cane jauntily. He took off his hat and bowed gallantly to the ladies.

"Tatsuki-san, Nanao-san, Chizuru-san, how wonderful to be in your presence again! Rukia-san, Orihime-san, Momo-san, your shadows darken my doorway while your faces light up my shop! Come, sit, eat, and be merry, for when you're done you must pay the tab!"

"Don't talk about the bill, just give us the grub!" Rangiku shepherded them to the counter and their usual seats. "You know our usuals, Kisuke-san!"

Rukia commented, "You know, we eat here so much he's gonna have to give us ramen on the house one of these days."

"There'll be snow in July before that happens," Tatsuki scoffed.

As they slurped through their food, Rukia told them about Hisana's matchmaking attempt.

"Kurosaki? I know him," Rangiku muttered, narrowing her eyes as she tried to remember. "He's quite handsome. He has the whole 'bad boy vibe' about him, and he's got a sense of style—he likes wearing colorful t-shirts with words artistically printed on them. All in all, I'd say he's pretty damn sexy. I heard he dated three girls at once, and they weren't the wiser 'til he broke up with them all. Why are you dragging your feet about dating him?"

Rukia stared at her. She shook her head despairingly and quipped, "I prefer to stay away from guys who might go Mr. Hyde on me, or cheat on me with various girls."

"Multiple personalities and multiple partners—you can be so discriminating with guys, Rukia-chan!"

She groaned. "What about you, Chizuru? What's your take on this guy?"

"I don't pay much attention to _guys_, Rukia-chan!" Chizuru sighed, as though Rukia really should have thought before asking such a question. "I have much better things to be concerned with."

She turned her gaze adoringly on Orihime, who sat innocently beside her. Her cat-eyes shaped glasses helped make her eyes look positively predatory, immediately alerting Tatsuki on Orihime's other side.

"Oh, princess, you look so precious cutely slurping your noodles like that…"

Tatsuki planted her hand in Chizuru's face before she could pounce. "Cease your perversion until dinner's done, you freak!"

"I don't know him personally, but my Shiro-chan does!" Momo pushed her bowl away and leaned toward Rukia, her dark eyes dancing. "Shiro-chan's good friends with him, but apparently he gets annoyed by Kurosaki-kun a lot too."

"Why?"

"He never calls him 'Hitsugaya', only 'Toushiro'. And Kurosaki-kun's a lot taller."

Rukia snorted and giggled. "I see, I see! Well, your boyfriend's taller than _me_, remind him of that next time he starts griping."

She turned to Nanao. As usual, Nanao idly picked at her bowl with her chopsticks while engrossed in a book.

"Nanao?"

Not lifting her stare from her book, Nanao pushed up her glasses and said, "Kurosaki's in my Advanced Human Anatomy course. Very intelligent, astute, quiet, and industrious. He's also a tough talker, as the rumors say. He dispatched my stalker quite nicely the other day."

"Kyouraku-kun counts as a stalker? He doesn't follow you everywhere, Nanao… Besides, you share five of the same classes, he can't help but be around you."

"His presence irks me. Kyouraku-san knows this, and disregards it. In fact, he violated my personal space."

"When he kissed your cheek that one time?"

Nanao blushed. "Shut up, Rukia."

_So…he's awful-tempered and a player? Astute and quiet? I'm getting scared thinking just how much of the cons might be true and how many pros might be false. Is it worth trying to find the truth about you, Kurosaki?_

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Once she said goodbye to her ragtag band of friends and had her hand kissed by Urahara as thanks for her patronage, Rukia went back to the dorm. She tugged on jeans and a purple t-shirt with_ Seireitei_ embroidered in flowing silver on the front pocket.

She looked at herself in the mirror and braced herself for the coming shift. On Friday nights, the Seireitei night club was always hopping.

When she walked through the back entrance, she immediately spotted Mizuiro Kojima and Keigo Asano talking near the door to the club proper.

"—I'm sure a lot of people found it funny how Orihime-san did the assignment, but at least they were polite enough to control their laughter!"

"I said sorry! I said sorry a thousand times to her! Come on, we've known her since freshman year of high school, she knows what a nuisance I am at times!"

"At times?" Mizuiro shook his dark head. "And you wonder why Rukia-san never consents to a date with you. It's a wonder you're not an ice sculpture from the way she looked at you."

"Help me shove him in the freezer and we may still have a chance!"

Keigo leapt a foot; Mizuiro merely turned and chuckled. "Good evening, Rukia-san!"

"'Evening, Mizuiro-kun." She glared coldly at Keigo. "'Evening, jerkwad."

"Rukia-saaaan!"

Her sudden frosty smile stopped his whine in its tracks. "Move your butt, Asano. I'm shift leader tonight. Prepare to drop dead from overwork."

Gleefully ignoring Keigo in his devastation, Rukia turned back to Mizuiro, her smile warming. "There's a bachelorette party in Private Room C, and the women are late twenties, early thirties—and all very good-looking. Why don't you serve the drinks? With your baby face, you should be raking in the tips, Ladykiller Kojima."

Mizuiro's dark eyes gleamed cunningly, shocking in contrast to his sweet face and small stature. "Will do, shift leader."

"Asano, you can take out the trash. Oh, and help Ikkaku-san and Yumichika-san haul the Johnny Walker to the storage room, we got twenty crates today."

"_Oh, infinite powers of the universe, help me…."_

Rukia smirked and strode off, pushing the door to the dancefloor.

The large room would have been pitch black but for the light hanging over the band stage at one end and multicolored lights sweeping periodically over the writhing mass of humanity swaying and grinding in the center. Rukia jogged to the other end of the club, vaulting nimbly over the swinging door to get behind the bar.

"Hey Renji, Tatsuki."

Tatsuki grinned, topping off a martini and handing it to a customer. "Two minutes late, _shift leader_. Wouldn't do to be late on one's first time as shift leader, _shift leader_." She whipped off the towel on her shoulder and snapped it at her friend's behind.

Renji Abarai laughed. "Can I have a sixty-minute break, _shift leader_? And a fifty-percent raise, _shift leader_?

"Watch it, minions!" Rukia giggled and turned to the next customer, a rather stern looking guy with—of all things—an old-fashioned fedora covering his head. "What's your poison, stranger?"

"Just a coke, if you don't mind."

"Sure thing. Renji, slip some ice in a glass!" She reached under the counter for a small fridge stocked with sodas and pulled out a glass Coca-Cola bottle. The customer looked on in amusement as the smaller woman popped off the metal cap using the edge of the counter.

"Glass bottles, huh?" he commented as she poured the pop into a tall glass.

"Hey, nothing but the best here, we're not one of the cheap dives. Besides, old-fashioned seems to be the theme tonight." She nodded up at his hat.

"Uh, yeah. I wanted to wear a hat, and this was all I could find."

"What, you bald?" Rukia grinned cheekily, pleased when he finally cracked a smile in return.

"Naw, but with the homework my professors are trying to choke me with, I just might lose all my hair."

Rukia glanced around, but there was were no others waiting with orders—they were all staring and rooting Tatsuki and Renji. They were causing a well-practiced and well-orchestrated scene, flinging bottles of various alcohols back and forth, making drinks the longer, but more entertaining, way.

"Hey, are you old enough to be working at the bar?

Rukia shot him a cutting look. "I'm not in junior high, if that's what you're implying."

He held up his hands in defense. "I didn't say that, I was just wondering if you were legal."

She sighed. "Sorry, it's just I sometimes get that. I'm short and…unendowed in some departments, so people assume." The fact that the counter just brushed the undersides of her breasts didn't make her feel any taller.

The stranger took a seat. "I can't see how people would think that." To his credit, his eyes didn't stray downward.

"Thanks."

A lull in the conversation passed in which they discreetly eyed each other.

"Just so I don't have to resort to calling you Bartender Girl, what's your name?"

"Rukia."

"It's nice getting my old-fashioned poison from you, Rukia. Name's Ichigo."

"Hey, Rukia-chan!"

Ichigo turned away just as Orihime bounced up to them, her arm entwined with Uryuu Ishida's.

"Two Sprites, Rukia-san," Ishida said while he pulled out his wallet.

"You're the second and third people in a row wanting sodas. What gives?"

Orihime giggled. "Uryuu's driving me back to the dorm later, and I get much too silly when I drink! Remember that one time I was drinking at Rangiku's party, and there were carrot sticks, and those rubber duckies—"

"All too well, don't make me remember!" Rukia exclaimed, waving her hands in mock horror. She started prepping their drinks. "Oh, yeah, Uryuu-kun, I ought to ask you while you're here. You heard of a Kurosaki-kun? He's a junior."

"He's an ass."

"Uryuu!" Orihime gasped at his deadpan frankness. "He's one of your best friends."

"Exactly, which puts me in a position to know he's an ass. Why do you ask, Rukia-san?"

As a few more people came up with orders for her to fill, Rukia regaled Uryuu with Hisana's matchmaking and everyone's opinions on the mysterious Kurosaki kid, from Hanataro's fearful warnings to Nanao's glowing compliments.

"…And now you're telling me he's a Grade A Ass."

"Well, that's just my opinion. You'll have to meet him in person to get an accurate measure of him for yourself. I'll say this, though; he acts like an ass toward me, but he won't tolerate anyone else doing the same."

"See! You _are_ friends!"

"Maybe a little bit, 'Hime…"

The happy couple departed. Ichigo turned back to Rukia.

"Sorry, couldn't help but hear your interesting tale."

"Sure you couldn't."

"So…you gonna ask me?"

"About what?" Rukia started wiping down the counter with a rag.

"This Kurosaki guy."

She rolled her eyes and tossed the rag to the side. "Why not? It feels like I've asked everybody and their uncle about him."

"Well…" Ichigo sipped pensively at his coke. "It's true he's a bit rough around the edges. He doesn't like to start fights, but if it's to defend himself or someone else, he'll sure as hell end it. He's not a violent psycho like you're imagining him to be," he said with a small grin.

She made a face. "A girl can't be too careful!"

"And it's true he's pretty smart," Ichigo continued, "since he's got scholarships and crap. Got common sense too, but that's when he's not going on instincts. He'd do anything for his friends and family, love and loyalty and all that."

"So, the stuff I heard about him dating three girls at once—"

"Is absolute bull. He's not one for chasing girls; he's more the type to blush like a sunburned tomato if a girl ever came after him." Ichigo leaned in slightly, eyes on hers. "And you know what?" he whispered.

Rukia leaned in slightly herself and whispered, "What?"

"He's a guy to be pitied."

"Huh?"

"With the friends he's got, telling wild descriptions of him, who needs enemies?"

She burst out laughing. "You've got a point!"

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They stayed like that for three solid hours. While Rukia mixed drinks for customers, Ichigo chatted with her about their professors and classes, the national news, part-time jobs, the best food joints in town ("Urahara Ramen Shop, hands down!" "Yeah, but the guy who runs that place is kinda weird.") and the wild antics of Rukia's friends ("You seriously call yourselves the 'Ramen Gang'?")

_I feel like I've known him forever._

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The pattern continued the next Friday...

And the next…

And when Rukia came to work on the fourth Friday, she was literally running to get to the club, not caring that most people would think her crazy for being enthralled with a guy she chatted with but once a week.

She stuttered to a stop when she saw that Ichigo was already at what had become "his" bar stool, and gave herself a quick perusal. It wouldn't do to look rushed and eager, she had to give off the impression of coolness and dignity.

"Happy to see me, Fedora Boy?"

Ichigo smiled as she jumped over the bar door (how did she jump so high?) and slapped down his money.

"Sure I am, Bartender Girl, I don't trust anyone else to give me an old-fashioned coke."

She mock pouted. "You just want me for my soda."

"Damn straight."

"Finals are coming up. Choking on the homework yet? What are you studying to be, anyway? I can't believe I haven't asked that yet."

"I know they are, when am I _not_ choking is the real question, and a doctor."

"You're in for more school years than the rest of us then. God, I can't even imagine putting up with it."

"Yeah, sometimes I wanna cop out and become a dentist."

Rukia gasped. "Dentists are serious medical professionals, Ichigo!" She wagged her finger teasingly before his face. "Without them you wouldn't own pearly whites, just dentures to stick on your gums."

"My pearly whites are just fine. See?" Without warning he snapped at her finger, catching it gently in his teeth.

Rukia gave a small shriek and shoved his shoulder. "You're such a flirt!"

Ichigo released her finger and winked. "Only with you."

Two hours sped by with similar banter. Rukia's mind told her it was nice to have such silly talk with a guy, but her hormones whispered, _Is this flirting? Even if he isn't, you are! _

Finally, Tatsuki came up and bumped her hip with Rukia's to call the engrossed pair back to Earth. Neither noticed Ichigo averting his face once again. "Take thirty, shift leader. Ikkaku and Yumichika said they'd watch the bar for us." She bent to hiss in Rukia's ear, _"Go enjoy it with your _lover boy_."_

"_He's just a friend!"_

"_Friends don't nip fingers and flash bedroom eyes!"_

Rukia stripped off her apron and vaulted over the barricade once more. "Wanna do something, Ichigo? I've got a half-hour to kill."

"You've been on your feet a while now, Rukia. Sure you don't wanna rest?"

"Hey, I'm still spry and chipper. Don't act like an old man, Ichigo!"

Funny, how it never occurred to them to use honorifics.

Ichigo slid off his stool and looked around. "Ah…We're at a dance club…You wanna dance?"

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It was awkward at first. After seeing that most of the dancers executing provocative, sweaty, grinding moves with each other were concentrated at the middle of dance floor and near the stage, they silently agreed to stay at the crowd's fringe.

Rukia was unsure what to do. Should she move her hips a bit? Sway her arms to the beat of the rock song the band was pounding out? She didn't have to decide—Ichigo put one hand low on her waist and hesitantly lifted her hand in his other one.

"We had dance class in gym once in seventh grade," he muttered sheepishly. "Hope you're okay with this, 'cause it's all I know how to do."

She put her free hand on his shoulder. "Uh, yeah, it's fine…"

Ichigo started guiding them around the small area between the dancefloor and the tables, their dancing form totally unsuited to the squeals of the electric guitar.

Rukia spotted Renji and Tatsuki swaying a few feet away. Their bellies were pressed together; Renji's arms were crossed behind Tatsuki's back, his head dipped to her neck. Tatsuki's hands lovingly cupped the back of his head; she was laughing at Renji's obvious kisses.

A streak of envy flashed through her. What she wouldn't give to have someone to dance with like _that._

Rukia jumped as her partner's lips tickled her ear. _"Ah, so you _do_ want to dance that way."_

Ichigo dropped her arm and placed both his palms higher on her sides. Rukia gripped his biceps and lifted onto her toe tips, her breath hitching as their middles rubbed together. His dark red dress shirt was unbuttoned; daringly, she slipped her hands into it, trailing them up his back, covered by the black tee he wore underneath.

But still…it was so wickedly intimate.

The band was playing so loudly, each beat of the drums echoed in their chests, summoning something primal. Ichigo grinned and slipped his fingers up the back of her t-shirt, warming the small of her back with his large hands. Rukia in turn grew bolder and bent backwards at the waist, swinging down, around, and up like a pendulum. Ichigo's eyes—that beautiful golden brown—trailed over her mussed hair and glowing face.

Her mouth turned dry. _No one's ever looked at me like that._

He tugged her closer, her soft chest cushioning his lightly muscled one.

_Keep looking at me like that._ With want. With desire.

"We gotta get out of here, Rukia."

She nodded; there was no way they could continue like this with an audience. She tugged him back to the bar and led him to a door marked "Break Room". She pushed him in and locked the door.

Immediately, he pounced on her and hauled her atop the table in the room's center.

"Listen, I have to tell you something—"

"You don't go this fast with girls?" she said with a smile.

"That, and…" Ichigo took off the fedora.

His hair was orange. Dark, sunset orange.

Her violet eyes took in the shade, and his tight, apprehensive expression.

The blood in her veins, which had hummed in excitement a minute before, turned cold in shock.

"Ichigo…Kurosaki?"

Ichigo nodded. "Yeah."

She looked down. "Well…don't I feel embarrassed."

He pressed his forehead to hers. "Don't be. It's unfair to you, 'cause you've only just heard about me, but it feels like I've known you for a long time. Nanao Ise mentions you in class, despairingly, as her friend who has the brains to become a doctor but not the will. And Keigo, whining on and on about the Ice Princess who's too wise to give him the time of day. Orihime and Uryuu think the world of you—they loved how you set Keigo in his place the other day. And Dad…he yammered for hours about how I should go out with his patient's sister, 'cause she's so beautiful and smart as a whip and her smiles rival my mom's."

Rukia felt her face warming. She pulled in a breath. "…Tatsuki said that normally you don't do parties and the like. Is that why you've been coming here? To see the girl your dad's been badgering you about?"

"Yeah. And lemme tell you, this might the best thing he's ever done for me." He cupped her face tenderly. "Not that you'll ever catch me telling him."

They gazed at each other quietly. Rukia reached up and tangled her fingers in his blazing hair, laughing softly. "Are you mad that I've had this extremely distorted picture of you in my head for a while?"

Ichigo chuckled, wrapping her in his strong arms. "Naw, I blame my so-called friends and acquaintances for that. What I'm most concerned about is: what do you think of me now that you know me in person?"

"Amazed that for once, Kurosaki-sensei wasn't exaggerating." She sweetly pecked his chin. "If you won't thank him, I will!"

"You're not mad that I didn't tell you who I was?"

"I ought to be. But if you'd told me who you were in the first place, I'd have made Renji or Tatsuki switch sides with me to avoid you. And that would've been tragic." She kissed both his cheeks.

"Rukia…"

"Hmm?"

He slowly leaned into her, easing her onto the table. "I want you to know I don't normally kiss girls on the first date, much less ones I haven't taken on a proper date yet."

"Well, if we count this as the fourth date, not only do we qualify for a kiss, but multiple kisses. Right?"

His warm mouth covering hers provided an eloquent yes. He went in for the kill, his tongue swiping against hers, drawing out a contented moan. With a gasp he pulled away and checked his watch.

"Ten minutes before your break's over."

"_Dammit."_ Rukia eyed him. "You good enough to make ten minutes last forever?"

He smiled hungrily and nipped at her warm neck. "First time for everything."

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Tatsuki stared at them when they came back to the bar.

"Ichigo? Rukia's mysterious paramour is Ichigo?!"

Ichigo shrugged and put his hat back on. "Hey Tatsuki. And yeah, I was kinda surprised you didn't figure it out. I had my hair covered, but I thought you might've glimpsed my face once."

"But—it's dark—and—you—I didn't expect—" She caught sight of Rukia with her mussed hair and flushed face, and her t-shirt completely untucked.

Her expression was reminiscent of a mother bear. "Ichigo, you idiot, what did you do to her!"

"Nothing I didn't want done!" Rukia burst.

"You didn't—"

"Of course not! We just kissed…thoroughly…and a lot." Rukia slipped her hand into Ichigo's and blushed more.

"Tatsuki, you know me, I'd never do anything like that!"

"Well, the Ichigo I know doesn't do random makeout sessions either!"

He grinned. "Take it as a sign of more good changes to come."

"Tatsuki, is there any way I can get off early? We'd like to have a late night dinner someplace."

She grumbled and ran her hand through her short black hair. "I'll tell the manager you caught a bug."

"Will that excuse fly?"

"As long as I don't tell 'em it's the love bug, I don't see why not." Tatsuki turned to her childhood friend. "Rukia's room mate is Nanao. If I call her in two hours and she says Rukia's not home, your ass is mine, Kurosaki!"

"Sure thing, Tatsuki."

Rukia laughed and walked out of Seireitei with Ichigo. She pulled out her cell phone.

"Hey, Nanao? It's me. If Tatsuki calls in two hours, say I'm home. No, I plan on staying out all night. With who?" She glanced slyly up at her lover. "Ichigo Kurosaki. We decided to have our first official date now. Yes, I'm serious, I'll explain later. Bye!"

Ichigo looked at her in amusement. "So, what are we planning to do the whole night?"

"I dunno. There are late night cafes, and parks we could walk around in. I don't really care; I just know that I don't want to part from you any time soon."

He bent to kiss her once more. "Me neither."

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Later that morning, Isshin Kurosaki was surprised when the phone rang two minutes after he entered the back door to the clinic.

"Kurosaki Clinic, Dr. Kurosaki speaking."

"Isshin-san!"

"Hisana-san?"

"Go to your door right now!"

Taking the cordless phone with him, Isshin stumbled to the front door just in time to see a delivery truck drive off, leaving a large arrangement of flowers on the step.

"Did you get one too?"

Isshin sat on the step, balancing the flowers on one hand. "Uh, yes, a bunch of blue flowers…?"

"They're blue Canterbury Bells!"

"Should that be significant to me?"

"_Yes!_ In the language of flowers, they mean _gratitude!_ I got a bouquet of them from Ichigo-kun!"

"Why would he—wait, there's a card."

_Dear Kurosaki-sensei_

_Thank you for meddling in Ichigo's social life. It's early days yet, but I can't see myself letting him go anytime soon!_

_With immense gratitude,_

_Rukia Kuchiki_

"WAH-HOOO!! GRANDFATHERHOOD, HERE I COME!!"

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**Important Information! Please Read!**

**Sheherazade's Blah Blah Blah**

Hullo! If you are reading this, Thank You for reading all that is above! Goodness, it's long, but it didn't feel right to cut it and post parts separately.

So yes, this hit me quite randomly. I was looking through some Shakespeare quotes I'd collected that I thought might make good Ichiruki pieces, and the one about 'loving friends' jumped at me for some reason. I thought of Rukia and Hisana, and things just sorta flowed from there.

Also, I'm quite happy to say I don't drink, being underage and all that, so if anything about the bar scene is incorrect, it's from lack of knowledge, not sloppiness. I remembered Mizuiro had a thing for older ladies, so I thought it'd be amusing to incorporate that into this AU. And finally, I got the idea of the 'future' writing assignment from early in the Bleach series (can't remember which volume) where Orihime did an art project on the same theme and drew herself as a robot with missiles shooting out of her. I wrote a similar story in this oneshot, but pared it down to her being a crazy chef. Gosh, I love that girl!

**Thank you very much for reading this! Please review, they absolutely make my day!**


	6. By Fives

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach, just this story.

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**By Fives**

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When he was a week old, and she was five, he met her.

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"Why can't you play today?" Momo queried.

Rukia adjusted her little backpack on her shoulders and tugged her sailor hat more securely on her head. "Mama wants me straight home, 'cause we're gonna see Aunt Masaki and Uncle Isshin's new baby."

Momo Hinamori squeaked happily, skipping a few steps ahead on the sidewalk. "So he's you're new cousin, Rukia?"

"Well, sort of. They're not really my aunt and uncle, but calling them Mr. and Mrs. Kurosaki would be too formal and stuffy." Rukia slipped her arm into Momo's. "Have you ever been around a baby before, Momo? I saw some babies in strollers once in the park, but I've never really met one."

"Oh, I've seen babies before! You're so lucky to go see one, Rukia! Babies are always _soooooo _cute!"

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"It's pretty cool how something can be kinda cute and really ugly at the same time."

_"Rukia!"_

Rukia turned from where she had been looking at the infant from the slats in the crib's bars and turned her dark blue gaze up at her mother. "What? It's true, Mama! He's tiny, and his face is sorta scrunched up…"

Masaki laughed lightly at the mortified look on Hisana's face. The woman had clearly forgotten just how far a child's candor could extend. "Never mind, Hisana, it's all right. If that's her opinion, that's her opinion; it's better than the people who say he's beautiful only because it's the polite thing to say."

"Well, I truly think he's handsome. But maybe it's because I know from experience that newborns quickly grow into plump, adorable toddlers." Hisana glanced lovingly at her husband. "Remember how Rukia looked when she was born?"

Byakuya chuckled briefly, his stern demeanor momentarily fading. "I was half afraid she'd quit breathing—her face strongly resembled a tomato from how hard she was squalling."

Isshin ruffled Rukia's dark hair. "You didn't have it so bad. I was the one who delivered her, so I got an earful of it!"

"I did not squall!" Rukia protested, causing them all to laugh softly, mindful of the sleeping baby.

"What's his name, Masaki?"

The new mother smiled, leaning over the crib to pick up her son.

"Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki."

Rukia giggled. "Strawberry Kurosaki? That's funny, Aunt Masaki!"

Before her parents could scold her, Masaki took Rukia's hand and lead her over to the rocking chair in the corner. "It's written differently than the word 'strawberry' though. We chose to spell it as 'first' and 'guardian'.

"Ichigo's name means, 'one who protects'," Isshin piped up.

Rukia was surprised to find herself in the chair, with the new baby settled on her lap. "He's so small!"

"Five pounds, six ounces. He's puny now, but he'll grow quickly, believe me."

"Will I be able to play with him?"

"Soon, sweetie."

She looked down and jolted at the sight of the baby's small, open eyes staring up at her. He wriggled his arm out of his blanket and began waving it. "He's awake, Auntie! Oh, please don't cry, please don't cry, please don't—"

Her tiny hand met his tinier one. She gasped as his miniscule paw wrapped around her pinky finger.

"I take that back; I guess he is pretty cute. Can I be his big sister?"

Masaki patted her cheek. "We would be honored."

Rukia gently shook his hand with her little finger, and initiated the pinky swear—this arrangement would have to do, since she doubted his tiny pinky could entwine with hers at this point.

"I'll be a good big sister to you, and I'll never leave you. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye…"

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When he was five, and she was ten, he pledged himself to her.

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"Rukia-nee!"

Where was she? Ichigo leaned against a tree, panting. His heart was pounding, not because he'd been running, but because he couldn't find her. Hide and Seek was one of their favorite games, but it had been_ forever_ since he closed his eyes and started counting, listening to her feet crunching through leaves, away from him.

What if he couldn't find her? What if some big kids had come to the park and found her, and they were bullying her and hurting her _right this very second!_ He couldn't let that happen!

Ichigo growled at the very thought of his Rukia-nee getting hurt. He scanned the ground and spotted a thin stick lying among the golden leaves—a fallen tree branch that was about as tall as he. He grabbed it and took off, his legs pumping as fast a five-year-old's possibly could.

"Ichigo!"

He ground to a halt and whipped the stick before him. "Who goes there?!"

"Ichigo! Up here, silly goose!"

The little boy looked up, craning his neck as far back as he could without tumbling backward.

There she was, sitting in the tree, swinging her legs and giggling.

"I can't believe you never thought to look up! You know I like heights!"

Ichigo sighed, closed his eyes, and flopped back unto the pile of leaves gathered at the tree's trunk. "You scared me, Rukia-nee! It was taking forever to find you. I thought something bad had happened."

He heard her swiftly clamber down the tree's trunk. "Oh Ichigo…" His eyes slid open when he felt Rukia's shadow covering his face from the sun. "I'm in charge of you when we're out playing, so I'd never go far from you. I'd never leave you. Don't you remember me telling you about my pinky promise?"

"Yeah…" An idea struck him. Ichigo crawled out of the leaves and snatched his makeshift weapon up again.

"What are you doing?"

He held the stick out to her. "Dub me."

"…Huh?"

"It's what they did in the West years ago, when that King Arthur guy was alive! You dub me a knight, and then I swear faulty to you!"

Rukia giggled and took the stick. "Um…don't you mean _fealty?"_

"Yeah, that. Loyalty, allyjunce—"

_"Allegiance."_

"Whatever! Same difference!"

"But why would you want to do that?"

He bent down on one knee before her. "You watch my back all the time—but I want to watch yours too!" Ichigo stared straight at her, his brown eyes suddenly burning in the autumn light in a way that always got to her deep inside—a boy with a man's gaze. "I wanna be your knight."

Rukia couldn't refuse him. Ichigo's "sword" solemnly brushed one shoulder, then the other while she said:

"I hereby dub thee: Sir Ichigo Kurosaki, Knight of Karakura."

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When he was ten, and she was fifteen, things began to change.

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"I don't know why you're so bent out of shape."

Ichigo's reply was a scowl. He dropped into the chair at Rukia's desk, absently picking up a pencil to whack against the head of the Chappy the Rabbit plushy she always kept there.

"Stop doing—" Rukia jerked the pencil out of his grasp. "Look, Ichigo, I'm sorry, but I'm going to the gathering whether you like it or not."

"But it's for high schoolers!" Why couldn't she understand his reasoning? It was so glaringly obvious!

"Ichigo, I _am_ a high schooler!"

"But you're a freshman! Didn't you say there's gonna be second- and third years there? That's asking for trouble! I mean, they're almost grown up, and all they think about is drinking, and-and-s-s-s-sex!" His face glowed with the effort of forcing out such an embarrassing word.

Rukia sighed and planted her hands on each of the chair's armrests. "It's not asking for trouble!" She leaned forward, glaring. "They're all great people. They don't do drugs or alcohol or any of that other crap. We're meeting at that fast food joint on 22nd Street for God's sake!"

She jerked away and went to rummage through her closet. "If my dad, Mr. Why-Does-My-Daughter-Need-A-Social-Life, doesn't mind my going, then it's certainly not your place to put in your two cents worth! I don't even know why I'm explaining myself to you."

Ichigo rose angrily. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rukia tugged on a lavender button-up shirt over her pale blue tank top and proceeded to hurriedly roll up the sleeves. He angrily pinched himself when he realized he was disappointed at how the shirt covered the porcelain arms he'd never paid any mind to before, and the soft-looking, moving, mysterious curves that filled out her top.

"You're a kid, Ichigo. I know I'm not exactly an adult myself yet, but I'm a lot further on that road than you are. I'm not interested in playing soccer or Hide and Seek in the park everyday like we used to do. I want to hang out with kids…my own age."

His lungs seized. His heart froze. Why didn't she just pick up the desk chair and whack him in the gut?

"So that's it." He padded methodically over to her. "You think I'm a baby, and you don't wanna be stuck baby-sitting anymore."

She sucked in a breath, immediately regretting how much her words hurt him. "Ichigo, you know I didn't mean it that way."

"Hey, it's fine, I get it. Though it's funny, isn't it? I'm the kid, but I'm already three inches taller than you. You're a shrimp, you know that?"

Rukia wouldn't be distracted by petty jibes. "I'm sorry you're feeling left out. But…it's just so _different_ from when we were both in grade school. You're in fourth grade, Ichigo, and I'm in _high school_ now. They're whole different worlds." She reached up and cupped his cheek.

"You're still my best friend, my little brother…but I'm growing up really fast now. And you still have a few years to enjoy being a kid. I don't want to drag you faster than you're meant to grow…and I don't want you to hold me back either. I'm sorry, but I don't know how to say it any other way."

He avoided her eyes. She understood; she suddenly hated herself right now for saying what had to be said. She tugged his head down and planted a kiss on his bright hair.

Rukia grabbed her purse, about to walk out. "Um…I'll tell you about the party later. I'll invite Momo over tomorrow, I know you think she's nice…and I'll ask Renji and Nanao over too. I know they'd be interested in meeting you…because I talk about you all the time."

She left, leaving the light scent of jasmine perfume in her wake.

Ichigo let his fists clench.

He realized what was so glaringly obvious, that nebulous concept that he'd felt so strongly, but couldn't find a name for.

It was the fact that she was unwittingly breaking their promise; she was moving away from him.

And it would be years before he could do anything about it.

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When he was fifteen, and she was twenty, he declared his intentions.

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"Hey."

Rukia stuck her hands on her hips, mock frowning at him. "You haven't seen me in months and all you can say is _'Hey'?_ What the hell, Ichigo!"

Ichigo smirked and came down the front steps, his eyes trailing over her. Rukia had grown to be the very image of Hisana, indigo eyes, flipped black hair, short stature, and all. "How could I miss you when you email me so much? Is college that boring?"

"You little—"

"Shut up and c'mere." He opened his arms and enveloped her.

He'd never tell anyone, but with her body pressed against his and his nose reveling in her softly scented hair, it felt like _he_ was the one coming home.

"Wow, someone's been working out!" With the irreverence of someone who had known him since he was born, she yanked up his shirt to reveal his lightly muscled stomach. "Aiming for a six pack, Ichigo?" She whacked his abdomen, a blow he obviously barely felt.

"Jeez, Rukia, don't strip me in broad daylight, dummy!" He batted her hand away and tugged his shirt back in place.

She aimed a light kick at his shin; she may have looked like Hisana, but the fire and teasing sense of humor was all Rukia. She pouted. "You're not gonna call me Rukia-nee, for old times' sake?"

"It's too childish." _And there's no way I can address you like you're my sister. Not now._

But of course, she couldn't know that. He watched her bounce up to his front door, chatting about how it took forever to excuse herself from her house.

"…From the way Mom and Dad were behaving, you would think I'd come back from the dead instead of coming back for summer break. Hey, invite me in, I wanna see Yuzu and Karin. And I need to regale you with tales of my exciting college experience!" She bumped open the door with her hip. "Karin! Yuzu! Your big sis is home!"

Ichigo heard the sounds of his parents exclaiming delightedly that their "third daughter" was back in town, and the yells (Karin) and squeals (Yuzu) of excitement as the twins pounded down the stairs.

It would be a while before he could talk to her by himself, he deduced.

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After his family was finished visiting with her, Ichigo invited Rukia up to his room to talk.

"Your room's always so Spartan."

"The less stuff I have, the less stuff I have to keep track of and clean up."

Ichigo sat on his bed, idly strumming his guitar. "So…your university sounds pretty exciting."

"It is, but that doesn't mean I don't care what goes on back here." Her eyes took on a sly gleam. "Sooooo….has my little brother gotten himself a girlfriend yet?"

The guitar let out a rough twang as his fingers slipped. "No! Of course not! None of the girls here are interesting."

"Oh, but plenty of the girls are interested in you, my friend. What about Tatsuki?"

"She's just a friend. Besides, she's mooning over Renji; she was caught three times texting him in class."

"Renji and Tatsuki are together?!" Rukia huffed indignantly. "He didn't tell me! What's the point of having three classes together if he doesn't tell me about these things!"

"He knew you'd tease him relentlessly."

"No, I'd just gush about how cute it is."

"Which is just as bad."

"What about Ryo? Mahana? Michiru? Orihime? Chizuru?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Acquaintance, acquaintance, acquaintance, friend who's _dating Uryuu_, and lesbian."

Rukia stared at him. "Chizuru swings the other way? I didn't know that."

"You were never there when Tatsuki got mad at her for perving on Orihime. We call her Tatsuki's Punching Bag."

"Wow…" Rukia crossed over to sit with him. She clapped his back. "Guess you're outta luck for girlfriend prospects."

"I don't mind."

"You're fifteen and your hormones haven't kicked in yet?"

"I never said that."

Rukia sighed. "Is there no one you're interested in?"

Ichigo set aside his guitar. "…Yes. There _is_ one girl."

She laughed. "Finally! A sign that you're normal! Who is she?"

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'm not sure you want to know."

"Don't be stupid, of course I want to know! Tell me."

He pulled back ever so slightly, his brown eyes locking with her blue.

_You knew it would come to this, Ichigo._

Ichigo pressed his lips onto hers.

Rukia made a funny, shocked sound deep in her throat. Ichigo's brain shut down conscious thought—it was too swamped with just feeling, absorbing, savoring the warmth and softness of her mouth, how his one hand slipped so effortlessly onto her waist, how the other fisted into such thick, soft hair.

She was just as thrown as he was. All she could register was the heat surrounding her, from the mouth inexpertly nudging and pressing against hers to the strong hand massaging her scalp to the lightning streaks sizzling through her chest and belly and thighs.

_Closer._

Her tongue peeped out, licked lightly at his lips. He leapt at the blatant invitation, parting his lips, eager for her to tutor him. He rumbled low in his chest. She shivered in response, the funny little sounds continuing.

_They needed to get closer._

His hand lovingly swept her breast—

And Ichigo found himself staring at the ceiling above his bed, smarting from where Rukia shoved him in the chest.

Rukia had fallen to the floor, panting, and scared as hell.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I shouldn't have—grabbed you like that."

Rukia lifted her horrified gaze to his. "Are you kidding? We shouldn't have done—_any of that! Oh God!"_

She scrambled up and hauled herself into his desk chair, putting further distance between them.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, Ichigo! The way I kissed you—oh my God!"

"I'm not sorry." He watched her freeze. "I'll never be sorry. I started that kiss and I didn't want it to end," he finished defiantly.

"Ichigo…you're my friend. _My little brother—"_

"Not any more." He slammed a fist into his pillow. "I'm not your brother, and God knows you're not my sister!"

She stared at him, shell-shocked. "Just…just how long have you felt this way?"

"At least five years," he said quietly. "Probably more than that. Five years of waiting before I'd be old enough for you to even consider me."

"Ichigo—I still think of you as my brother! Hell, you're five years younger than me, I might as well turn myself in as a pedophile!"

Ichigo gritted his teeth at her reaction. "You better start changing your way of thinking, Rukia, because I'm becoming a man, a man who wants and needs you. I'll be a man worthy of you, one you can't turn away." He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his heart. "I don't care what you say: when I come for you, you won't be able to resist."

Ichigo leaned in and whispered in her ear. He didn't need to look at her to know she went absolutely white.

The Kurosaki family was shocked and worried at how Rukia ran out of their house. Their worry deepened when, at subsequent get-togethers with the Kuchikis, Rukia never once spoke to Ichigo.

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When he was twenty, and she was twenty-five, he came for her.

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For five years, they never spoke of it.

After that summer, her emails were less frequent, and far briefer. Ichigo decided that he would only discuss the incident with her if she wrote about it first.

She didn't.

She came home for the Christmas breaks, and in the summers, but they exchanged few words beyond the mandatory greetings and how-are-you's. When she graduated, she got a job at a little bookstore, Ukitake's Book Nook, in the nearby town of Inuzuri—close enough to Karakura to visit her parents, far enough to serve as an excuse to not stop by the Kurosakis' too often. The avoidance of their house was hardly necessary though, once Ichigo left for the dorms at Karakura University.

It was early December when they next met. A light sprinkling of snow had dusted the streets, gathering in the corners of the shop's window, somehow making the holly, garlands, and miniature Christmas tree in the window display even merrier. People had been in and out of the store all day—such was the Christmas shopping season. It was a half hour until closing when the owner, Juushiro Ukitake, decided to cut his exhausted employees some slack.

"Nanao, Uryuu, Rukia," he called from the front desk (also festooned with holly), "no one's going to come in this late in the evening. Someone go to the backroom and tell Kiyone and Sentaro that we're calling it quits."

The trio had settled in a far corner of the shop, sitting on the green carpeting, partially hidden by the beautiful oak shelves as they steadily plowed through books needing to be catalogued and shelved. Rukia giggled when Nanao Ise and Uryuu Ishida both pushed up their glasses simultaneously.

"Are you sure, Mr. Ukitake?"

"Yes, Uryuu, perfectly sure. Go home, where I'm sure Orihime will make sure to pry your medical schoolbooks from you," he said, referring to Uryuu's wife. "I know studying is like breathing to you, an admirable trait, but you_ can_ have too much of a good thing. And you had best get home as well, Nanao."

She frowned. "I'd rather not, sir."

"Why not? This is, what, the fifth night in a row Shunsui has serenaded you at your window?"

"With all due respect, sir, perhaps if your friend froze certain parts of his anatomy off in the freezing weather, he'd learn that my appreciation of his attentions is just as frosty."

Rukia couldn't help but chime in. "But you've got to admire his tenacity, Nanao."

"If I wanted tenacity, I'd get a terrier."

"Don't get all stuffy, you know you like him!"

Nanao hid her face with a book. "Shut up, Rukia."

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After assuring Ukitake that she didn't mind locking up, and would only be a few minutes behind him, Rukia was alone in the shop. She liked closing the shop, actually; where some people would find an empty, dimly-lit store creepy, she never felt alone surrounded by all the people inhabiting the store's books.

Abruptly, the bell above the door jangled ten minutes before she could officially lock the door.

She sighed and turned. "Hello, how can I help—"

She stopped in her tracks.

The tall man tugged off his stocking cap, revealing bright orange hair.

"Ichigo."

"Hey."

She gave herself a mental shake and cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

"Mom wanted me to come and personally invite you to our Christmas party."

"…And you waited until nine o'clock at night to do so?"

He shrugged. "I was kinda torn. I wanted to do it, but I wasn't sure if you'd try and get me escorted off the premises or not."

"Silly, I'd never do that." Rukia picked up a stack of books and began sliding them into the shelf opposite the front counter, an excuse to avoid his eyes. "Now come straight with me."

"Huh?" He stripped off his coat and laid it on the front counter, then proceeded to swipe the snow off his jeans.

"You really thought I'd buy a flimsy lie like that? I still know you too well to believe that."

Ichigo laughed. "Caught me. It's not a lie; it's just not my main reason."

"Which is?"

"I wanted to see you." His eyes trailed over her slim figure in loose violet sweater and khakis she wore, and noted how her hair was as dark and pretty as ever, slightly mussed from running around the shop all day.

Rukia set the books back down. "Well, I don't want to see you." _Especially when you've become so handsome_. "I thought I made that clear the past five times in the past month you've tried to contact me!"

"I won't accept no," he said quietly. "Not until you answer me."

She swept her hair back, tempted to yank at it in frustration. _He's always been hardheaded and stubborn, that'll never change._

"Answer you about what?"

Ichigo leaned against the counter, fighting the urge to reach for her. "I want you to give me an answer to what I told you the day I kissed you."

As Byakuya's daughter, Rukia had quickly learned how to school her face to be totally expressionless, a trick that served her well. Only Ichigo could see the quick flash of fear in her eyes before they went blank.

"That's a pretty random topic to bring up. After five years, you're suddenly burning with the desire for my reply?"

"Patience has never been my strong point," he admitted, "but you're important—" _everything _"—to me, so I knew I should give you whatever time you needed. And I was still a kid then, I needed to finish growing up before I could even think about you…being with me."

"So what changed? Your patience finally snapped?"

"I guess you could say that." Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Kaien Shiba cut the strings."

Rukia turned her head—her emotionless trick couldn't surpress a blush. "Who told you?"

"Renji. He was mentioning how nice he'd been to you, setting you up on a date with Shiba, and how well you two seemed to hit it off." He hoped Renji's jaw was still smarting from where Ichigo had socked him—the poor idiot thought Ichigo's passion was a little crush and nothing of great import, and so he hadn't thought twice about asking Kaien Shiba to show his normally solitary bachelorette friend a nice time at the movies.

"Well, you're right, I am seeing Kaien. It's amazing how well we suit each other," Rukia said breezily. "He's kind, and quite handsome. He owns Central 46, that restaurant in southern Karakura. And he's very mature, quite suave."

"He looks a bit older than you, at least from the picture Renji showed me." _Before I punched him._

"Yeah, yeah he is," she said casually. She smiled a little. "I guess I have a thing for older men."

She waited for him to snap at her blatant insult, but Ichigo just smiled at her.

"There's something else I noticed too." He reached into his front shirt pocket and drew out Kaien's picture.

"If his hair were orange instead of black, he'd look just like me."

Rukia paled. "That has nothing to do with anything! It's just a coincidence!"

"If you're happy with this new guy, and you don't give a damn about me, why won't you answer me then?" He slapped the picture on the counter. "You never said yes, so you didn't accept me, but you never said no either! So here I am, dangling by my heartstrings, and you're my puppeteer. Is there something keeping you from rejecting me outright, or do you just get a kick outta leaving me hanging?"

"You really think I'd be that cruel?" She pushed away from the shelf and stalked toward him. "Forgive me for thinking what _we_ did—_what I did_—was wrong, that this whole thing is completely insane!"

"That amazing kiss? My heart laid out for you to inspect? The fact that I didn't—don't—love you like a brother, or a friend—"

"Shut up, Ichigo!"

_"—But as a man? That's all wrong?!"_

"Shut up! Just shut up!" She slapped her hands on the counter, trapping him in. She glared up at him, completely disregarding the fact she was trying to intimidate a man nearly a foot taller than her. "It's not just because I acted like your big sister for so long! There's an age difference to consider as well, you fool!"

Ichigo stared down at her as though she'd utterly lost it. "Our ages?"

"Yes, idiot! You may be legal now, but you're still in college. You should be going out with girls your own age, enjoying the height of your young adulthood, not pining after a woman who'll be hitting the big Three-Oh in a few years!"

"I don't give a damn about that, Rukia."

"You will! Think about it—I'll get old, and look old, before you, when you could be running around with a prettier, taller, bustier woman instead. And I'm stubborn, and difficult, and outspoken, and—"

"Perfect for me." He had listed to her rant with a smile on his face. His hand smoothed the back of her head, tickled the nape of her neck. "Any other woman would be bore me to tears. No other woman could capture me like you have."

A good dose of fear was mixing with her fury. She tried struggling out of his embrace. _"God dammit, when did you get so silvertongued?!"_

"I've changed quite a bit," he said simply. His arms tightened around her, gently pinning her. "But not my feelings about you. I still want you, and need you, and at the rate I'm going I'll go to my grave feeling this way. Rukia."

She raised her face and glared at him.

"At this point, our ages don't matter much. We're both adults! I mean, my dad's seven years older than Mom, but it's never been a problem for them, 'cause it doesn't matter to them, and they love each other regardless. You don't think we could be like that? You don't think we could be happy, if only we gave it a shot?"

Rukia trained her eyes on the buttons closing his shirt. She'd be damned if he saw her eyes tearing up.

"…I can't lose you."

She felt him go still.

"My parents, and yours, and your sisters… They've always been there for me. I know they'll always love and accept me. But you…you've always been different.

"You're my constant, my touchstone, my lighthouse. When you were a week old, you wrapped your tiny finger around mine, and my heart, and you never let go."

Damn it, she had to look up at him, she had to see his eyes and know he understood what she was trying to say, the truth she'd viciously smothered for years, the truth that she refused to acknowledge, but was so powerful it had drawn her to this man's older, darker version.

"The way I felt about you changed! You were growing up so fast, I could hardly believe it! You've always looked older, more mature, than you are." She shook her head despairingly. "It wasn't just your looks that grew, but your wit and intellect and that stubborn sense of right and wrong—they—they deepened, and it was—attractive. And sometimes, I'd catch you looking at me, and I thought I'd see something in your face, but I thought I was imagining things. I thought I was losing my mind, thinking that way! And then…and then a year after started thinking those things…I came home from college and you kissed me."

Her fingers clutched his shirt, but he didn't mind. His eyes were wide at the revelation that his early awareness of his best friend hadn't been one-sided.

"If you felt that way…why did you—"

"I was scared, you idiot, I was scared out of my mind! Even if you were my age, and didn't think of you as a sibling, I would still have pushed you away. Because," she hissed, imploring him to understand, "if things didn't work out, if I screwed up, I'd lose my constant! And I could never do that, I could never lose you like that!"

"I think you're the idiot."

Rukia went rigid. _"What?"_ She had just poured her soul to him, and he called her an idiot? A murderous rage flared up within her.

Ichigo slipped down to his knees—for once, he had to look up a bit to be on eye-level with her.

"It takes to two to screw up a relationship. We've already been screwing things up for years now—if you had trusted me enough to tell me your fears, and I'd been smart enough to try and figure your fears out for myself, we wouldn't have spent all this time growing apart." His fingers laced with hers. "Give me a chance, Rukia, give us a chance."

A tear had managed to leak from one of her dark blue eyes. "Repeat the question."

"What?" It had been more of a plea than a question.

"The question from that day. Repeat it."

Ah. Now he understood. He leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek. "I love you, Rukia. I love you so much. When the time comes, will you be mine?"

She turned, her forehead pressing against his, and looked into his expectant brown gaze.

"Yes."

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"Thanks for coming out on such short notice, Shunsui."

Ukitake slammed down his car's hood and slipped his fedora back on his pale head. He crossed over to shake his best friend's hand. "As thanks for helping me start my engine, why not drop by my place for some hot coffee? You look like you could use it."

Shunsui Kyouraku laughed and stroked his goatee, shoving his other hand into his leather jacket's pocket. His brown pony-tailed hair and his pink scarf, embroidered with sakura petals, flapped in the cold night air. "I'd like that very much, as long as you slip a bit of sake into it. And it was no trouble anyway, Juushiro, I was already in the neighborhood."

"How did Nanao chase you away this time?"

He pulled a tragic face. "She waited until I was right under her balcony, then dumped a huge bucket of water over the side! I barely dodged in time. But Old Bessie and I—" He jerked a thumb back to his car, where a guitar was propped up in the passenger seat. "—are still determined!"

"If she didn't actually like you, she'd have called the police by now, you do realize that?"

"Yep. But victory isn't won until she admits it outright."

Juushiro shook his head and turned back to his vehicle—when something caught his eye. He had parked right in front of his shop, and, preoccupied with his stalled engine as he was, hadn't noticed the lights were still on, when Rukia should have closed ten minutes ago.

He stepped in the middle of the deserted street, wondering if something was wrong—when he saw Rukia.

Sitting on the front counter.

Quite ardently kissing an orange-haired young man.

"Something wrong, Juu-san…? Oh." Shunsui saw the couple as well. "Oh. Oh ho ho ho!"

They were both surprised to see Rukia legs on Ichigo's hips, their arms wrapped around each other, mouths melded together. Her fingers tangled in his hair, while his hand slipped onto her bottom and tugged her closer.

"That's one of your…?"

"Employees, yes."

"…You gonna do anything about it?"

He thought for a moment…then shrugged. "No. No, I don't think so. Rukia needs more excitement in her life, and I have a feeling she's getting quite a Christmas present right now. Besides…" Juushiro turned, wearing a smile, and went back to his car.

"…I'm sure they'll remember to close up eventually."

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When he was twenty-five, and she was thirty, it had all come full circle.

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"I'm surprised at how well they get along."

Ichigo smiled when Chihiro, little raven-haired, golden brown-eyed Chihiro, who hated parting with her stuffed rabbit, voluntarily placed it in front of her playmate. It was quite a generous feat for a girl three years of age.

Four-year-old Sora Ishida stared at it for a moment, then gently took it in his little grasp. His brown eyes stared at the younger child in seeming adoration.

"Thank you, Chihiro," he said with a shy smile.

Uryuu smiled at the scene. "Yeah, maybe because we're normally at loggerheads, it means our kids will automatically interact nicely. These things work out that way sometimes."

Rukia and Orihime came up behind their husbands sitting on the park bench. Rukia looped her arms around Ichigo's neck.

"Nanao and Shunsui are here."

"That's good, I thought they'd be late," Ichigo replied.

Soon, Sakura Kyouraku, who at three years old already looked the very image of her mother (minus the glasses), was playing with the other two. In a manner also reminiscent of Nanao, Sakura had insisted on bringing several picture books to show her friends.

Juushiro, Isshin, and Renji were already surrounding the grill, arguing on how to prepare the food, at what temperature the grill would be ready, and how long to leave the food on. Byakuya looked on in distaste, quietly remarking that many cooks spoil the dinner. Sentaro and Kiyone looked about ready kill each other with their knives in a disagreement over the proper preparation of shish kabobs, not having heard Byakuya's remarks at all. Hisana and Masaki laughed at the chaotic scene, while Karin and Yuzu chatted with Tatsuki, offering congratulations on her and Renji's decision to start a family. Momo Hinamori was in attendance, talking intently with her new sweetheart, Juushiro's nephew Toushiro Hitsugaya. Kisuke and Yoruichi Urahara, friends of the Kurosakis and Chihiro's godparents, were also present, and seemed intent on needling Byakuya until he finally snapped. Nanao batted Shunsui away when he dove in for a quick kiss, but wasn't really mad. Seconds later, she slipped her hand into his much larger one.

"We've rounded up all these people for her birthday," Rukia said with a chuckle, "but all Chihiro really cares about is playing with Sora and Sakura."

Ichigo watched as Sakura read aloud to her friends from a little cardboard storybook.

" 'This is a duck. Look at the small yellow duck…"

Chihiro and Sora paid polite attention to her. Then, Sora took Chihiro's hand in his own.

Chihiro giggled, then reached over to muss his dark hair.

"When I look at them, I'm reminded of us," Ichigo said quietly.

"Yeah. But there's only one year between them, so hopefully things will be a bit easier for them, if, you know, they really do become like us," Rukia whispered happily.

Ichigo wrapped an arm around Rukia. "Hey, we got to where we were meant to be eventually. Speaking of which, we didn't really do anything special for our fourth anniversary. Whaddaya say we plan a vacation for our fifth? Let Chihiro stay with your parents or mine, and we'll go somewhere for a few days."

Rukia smiled. "Sounds good to me. We really do need to do something special for our next anniversary. After all, the number five has always been a good one for us."

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**Sheherazade's Blah Blah Blah**

Hullo! Sheherazade here. Thanks for slogging through yet another long long long one-shot. Hopefully quality makes up for the overbearing quantity.

**First off, a thousand thanks to DeviantHollow23, GinNeko, JadeRent, and CharmedNightSkye for reviewing the last one-shot! Reviews make my day, so thanks bunches.**

This "little" story popped up when I had a migraine and I was trying to think of anything to distract me from my pounding pain and general misery. Thinking up another Ichiruki one-shot seemed a good distraction, so I went with it. I was hoping to post this before I left for the Philippines, but that didn't happen, so I had to finish it on my uncle's computer an ocean away from home.

I thought it would be interesting if Ichigo and Rukia were in a real world Alternate Universe setting, and still had an age difference. Instead of a 150 years age gap though, it's just five years here. I especially had fun writing ten year old Ichigo's reaction to high schooler Rukia's friends. I tried to write them as realistically as possible as kids—I'm not around younger kids that much, but I can remember pretty well how it felt at those ages. For Ichigo (age ten), I remembered thinking at his age that high school kids were pratically grow-ups and sooooo oooooold and probably had learned everything they needed to know by then. And now I'm about to be a senior in high school, and I still feel childish and young, though outwardly I'm quite mature.

Also: about the previous piece, _With Friends Like These_—I realized I'd misspelled Johnny Walker, the alcohol, it should be Johnnie Walker. But I've decided to keep the misspelling, because it made me LOL at my total ignorance of alcoholic beverages.

Quick comment on the Philippines: If it wasn't for the relatives we're visiting, I'd want to leave pronto, just to get away from the humidity. How does everyone deal with the humidity, in the name of God?! What people think is a cold snap here would be considered a heat wave back home (I live in the Midwest). Other than that, the place has beautiful scenery, and the seafood's great.

**Thanks for reading this humble piece of work! Please Review!**


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